If We Were Children I Would Bake You A Mudpie
by unoriginalrhombus
Summary: "They're not friends, not really, because neither girl really knows how to do that. Instead, they're comrades, pushed together by a cause and stuck together for the cause. Still, Quinn often thinks that if Santana were one for sentiments, she might just tell her that she's the best not-friend Quinn's ever had." Mostly AU.
1. If We Were Children

_A/N: So, this happened. I've been in a writing mood. Let me know if it's kind of boring, yeah?_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, I don't own Glee and I don't profit off of this, etc, etc._

* * *

**If We Were Children I Would Bake You A Mudpie**

**(Just To Show You What I'd Done)**

When Quinn looks back on it, she realizes that her life was made and broken from _moments_. Quinn used to think she would be terrified because she's only ever been good at being terrified.

She knows that this moment should terrify her, and don't get her wrong, it is scary in a "her life is changing for good" sort of way. But overall, it's thrilling. And that goes to show how much of the old Quinn is left these days. It's a testament of her love for Santana, that Quinn is standing in front of these people (who could only ever be important) and promising Santana forever, instead of running.

It's weird to think about how she got here. Because even when she adds it up and takes away all the moments that made her this girl, they never seem to lead up to this moment.

But she guesses life has always had the skill of getting in the way.

* * *

Quinn is thirteen when she officially meets Santana Lopez. She's heard of her, but never quite seen her, and the presentation is far less than the hype. Quinn is all awkward stages and belly fat while Santana is all early development and lean muscles.

Quinn hates her because she can, and because she's Quinn. She's a Fabray, and Fabray's are really only good at the things that don't matter. Her skills vary, but often settle on three things: being a disappointment, absorbing words and phrases from her books, and hatred. So she hates all the pretty girls with their pretty smiles and their pretty lives, like she hates all things: effortlessly.

She hates that she's surrounded by idiots. She hates that they memorize the events in social media like it'll actually impact their future. She hates that they can have cheeseburgers for lunch while Quinn is stuck with a stupid salad. A salad that's almost as bland as it is disgusting.

She's in the eighth grade, and it's so hard that she hates herself, too. Because the schoolwork is easy, it's always been easy. But actually making friends with people she can't stand? That's hard.

Up until now her whole life has been in books, and it's hard to focus all of her attention on magazines and celebrities and conversation, when she could be reading something life altering and soul shattering. It isn't often that Quinn strikes up conversation with her peers, but when she does, it's awkward and unorganized and practiced. Most of all, it's not natural.

The people in her grade are so _stupid_, and Quinn often finds herself wondering why she wants to be like them so much.

Maybe it's because they look like their lives are easy, and Quinn's always wanted to experience a life that ebbed and flowed so easily. She's tired of feeling like a screw-up, like she's holding up the line in her "perfect" family tree.

So she spends the first half of her eighth grade year trying to be just like everyone else.

Quinn isn't like the other girls, not yet. She's in the last few stages of shedding off Lucy, and it's apparent, because she hasn't quite captured how to be cruel yet.

And Santana Lopez isn't-and is-many things, but cruel? For a thirteen year old, it was almost most certainly her speciality.

She took cruelty and harsh words and used them in a way that was almost too beautiful to watch, and Quinn was most definitely a fan.

Well, when she isn't busy hating her.

Quinn is busy reading outside when Santana waltzes up to her. Lima is nearing Spring and Quinn had spent the majority of her day trying to interact with her peers, only for her to retreat into herself hours later.

She hates being interrupted during a story, mostly because she just hates. It goes hand-in-hand with Spring. If Santana notices, she doesn't say anything. Santana's boldness at it's finest, and Quinn barely has time to acknowledge that it's endearing before Santana is standing in front of her. A smirk on her face and her hair up in a bun.

"What gives, Fabray?"

Quinn's thrown off by Santana's greeting more than she is by her presence, and it makes her hesitate. "Excuse me?"

Santana rolls her eyes as if the answer is obvious, and Quinn has to push down her irritation at the sight. ""Why are you out here being a fucking weirdo?"

"That sentence doesn't even make sense." Quinn responds on reflex, her mind automatically correcting Santana's mistakes with ease.

"I repeat; weirdo."

Quinn chooses to ignore Santana's blatant insult, her curiosity besting her. "Where else would I be?"

Santana stares at Quinn as if she's just told her that John Stamos is a homosexual, and it's disturbing, the amount of focus that Santana applies when she wants to. "You should be in there leading, instead of being led." Santana jerks her head towards the cafeteria and Quinn understands more than she wants to.

"I'm fine." Quinn replies. She isn't, is what she means, but the best things in life were always unspoken, so Quinn leaves it at just that.

"That isn't what I asked."

Quinn snaps her book shut in irritation. She squints up at Santana, and for a second, she almost admires Santana's bravery. It's almost heroic in a way, and Quinn can't take it lightly, so she doesn't. "But that's what I answered."

Santana raises an eyebrow as if Quinn's words were a challenge. There's a hint of mirth in her eyes that makes Quinn feel as if everything is unexpected, and Quinn isn't sure if she likes it or not. Santana sits down next to her even though she's obviously uninvited, and her boldness is almost as attractive as it is stupidly heroic.

Santana looks towards the cafeteria, her cheeks flushing underneath the tiny flash of sun, and her hands crossed carelessly across her chest. "You could be a legend, you know?"

Quinn has half a mind to slap this girl with her nonsense, but she's intrigued now, and it's almost impossible to stop Quinn when she gets like this. "How do you figure?"

Santana looks at Quinn, her eyes narrow and her smile nonexistent. "I know who you are."

For a moment Quinn panics, because it's been so long since someone has called her Lucy Caboosey, and she's terrified that Santana has decided to backtrack time. "What?"

"Your sister Charlotte? She was a four time Cheerleading National Champion. She got a full ride scholarship to Columbia. Guys worshiped her and girls wanted to be her."

'Oh, _her_,' Quinn thinks. She hasn't thought about Charlotte in such a long time. It's easier to pretend the perfect sister exists then it is to acknowledge you'll never measure up to half of what that sister was. Quinn frowns at Santana's comment. Not many people remember Charlotte because she was five years older than Quinn, and already out of High School. "Okay?"

Santana nudges Quinn as if the answer is obvious. "Dude, don't you fucking get it? You're a shoe in for Cheerios. Sue Sylvester practically fawned over your sister and when she gets wind of you, she'll be begging you to be on the team. Cheerios is like top shit around here, you'd be a fucking celebrity."

Quinn frowns, she's genuinely confused as to why any of this matters. She's aware of her draw to Sue Sylvester. But she's also aware of her appearance and the fact that she can barely run for thirty minutes without dying. "And?"

"And," Santana says, her voice as clear as the day. "You could rule this fucking place. Change things, _matter_."

It sounds too good to be true and Quinn voices as much. "You seem to have forgotten that I'm not exactly cheerleader material." Quinn gestures to her body as if Santana needs any more proof.

Santana looks at Quinn dismissively. "Please, Fabray, I know good things when I see it. All you need is some proactive, a little bit of exercise, and contacts. I can help you with that and by fall, you'll be a whole new girl. Quinn the Queen." Santana laughs at the end, as if it's more funny than terrifying.

"I don't get it," Quinn responds, because she doesn't. "What do you get out of it?"

Santana shrugs and looks away. "When she promotes you to Captain, take me with you. Second in command, always."

"That's it?" Quinn is always one to look a gift in the mouth, whatever that means, because she doesn't think deals like this are ever simple. She doesn't understand why Santana would want to be second of anything when it's very clear that she could be first.

Santana smiles sadly. "I'm pretty sure you understand that sometimes it's just easier to follow."

Quinn nods, because sometimes it is.

"How about we agree that you'll just owe me one?"

It sounds simpler than it probably is, but Quinn takes it anyway. She hasn't had very many offers, but she knows her days are dwindling. Once she hits high school her status will be set in stone, and she can't handle being a nobody for forever.

"Okay."

* * *

Quinn spends the majority of the summer before her fourteenth birthday with Santana.

They enroll in dance classes together, visit the gym, and get drunk constantly. They sunbathe, watch crappy movies, and diet together. Santana helps Quinn buy her first bra and Quinn helps Santana pass her summer English course.

Whatever Santana's plan is, it's working. Quinn's body seems to finally catch up with her mind because she grows six inches, her acne disappears, her flabby skin becomes harder and tones, and her hair gets lighter with the sun.

By popular opinion, Quinn's officially _beautiful_, and it's almost as rewarding as the looks of appreciation from her parents.

Santana's looking pretty good, too. She's grown into her breasts, her hair is amazing, and where she was once all awkward angles, she's now soft curves. She's funny and knows when to keep her mouth shut, she teaches Quinn about teenager things and pushes Quinn to be braver, and more cruel.

They're not friends, not really, because neither girl really knows how to do that. Instead, they're comrades, pushed together by a cause and stuck together for the cause.

Still, Quinn often thinks that if Santana were one for sentiments, she might just tell her that she's the best not-friend Quinn's ever had.

* * *

It takes two weeks at Cheerio bootcamp for Sue Sylvester to notice them.

They're in better shape compared to all the other bitches, because they spent the majority of their summer preparing for this while the other girls took it as a time to have fun. the workouts are hard, but not impossible, so Quinn and Santana keep up relatively well.

The dancing is easy, as well, because of the classes. They stand out and it's amazing to finally be someone other than the girl who blends in.

As soon as Sue Sylvester spots them, it's incredibly hard for her to un-notice them. It takes one more week for Sue to inquire about Quinn and three days after that for her to promote her to Captain. She says it's because she knows talent when she sees it, Quinn knows it's because she only sees Charlotte. Either way, it's the opportunity Quinn needed and she takes it in handfuls.

She quickly makes Santana her co-captain, and just like that, everything started clicking into place.

They rule the school with a fucking iron first.

It makes sense that them coming together could be so volatile, not for them, but for everyone else around them. They create chaos and destroy dreams, and as evil as it all feels...well, it also feels incredibly good. For once, Quinn finally holds power and her father finally looks at her like she means something. It's intoxicating, and as quickly as it comes, Quinn promises to never let it leave.

Santana seems to enjoy it as well, for reasons unbeknownst to Quinn.

They quickly pick the biggest tools in their grade to be their boyfriends, only because both boys are easy to manipulate, not because they'll ever be worth something.

Sure, Finn Hudson is sweet, but it's clear that he's on the track of being a Lima Resident Lifer, and Quinn can't get down with that. Noah Puckerman is more charming because he's not as stupid as he looks, he just likes acting like it.

Santana has her back one hundred percent and Quinn does the same for her. It's confusing, their friendship, because Santana keeps commenting how they're not friends, only allies. And, well, Quinn can't shake the feeling that they are friends, that Santana's her only friend.

She says as much on New Years Eve, when they're both drunk and laying on the roof of Santana's house. Santana invited her over under the disguise that she just didn't want to spend her night making out with Puck, but Quinn gets the feeling it was something else instead.

Santana looks at Quinn like she always does when Quinn says something crazy. "Don't be a fucking idiot, Quinn, of course we're friends."

Quinn shrugs helplessly, her demeanor meek. "But...you never say it. You say the exact opposite, actually"

Santana sits up, her shoes sliding down the roof at her movement. She grabs them quickly and turns her attention back to Quinn. "I don't need to say it for it to be true."

"But Santana, you kind-of d-"

"Oh, for fucks sake!" Santana interrupts, her hands waving in the air crazily. "Of course you're my fucking best friend, Quinn. I love you like I love Tequila, wholeheartedly."

Quinn smiles then, because it's probably the nicest thing Santana will say to her for months, but it's still there and it's real. "You love me?"

Quinn has to duck as Santana's shoes come flying at her head. "Shut up, you weirdo."

From anyone else, it would be rude, but from Santana it's almost affectionate, and Quinn thinks that maybe this was the plan she was supposed to take all along.

* * *

They end their Freshman year like they started it, on top.

She spends the majority of her days with Santana and they spend the weeks swapping between both of their houses. Quinn's parents are hardly home, they prefer to be out showing off their lives instead of staying in, so it makes for a quiet and empty household. Santana's parents are home more frequently, her house is generally packed with people and it's nice because it's homey. Santana doesn't say anything about Quinn's house, but often Quinn gets the feeling that Santana's coming to her house because she doesn't want Quinn to feel bad.

It's strange, but their friendship almost feels like a relationship, without all of the extra sexual stuff. They act like a couple so frequently that more than one person has looked at them confused. It doesn't phase Quinn, everyone else obviously doesn't get it, and they don't need to.

Sometimes she wishes that Santana and her could just get away and go somewhere where people actually looked like they were living.

She wonders, often, if Santana wishes the same.

* * *

Sophomore year started off almost exactly like the previous, with Quinn and Santana in charge. It proves to be worse than that though.

Two months into it, everything happens at once. Quinn discovers that she's pregnant with Noah Puckerman's stupid baby, Brittany S. Pierce joins the Cheerios, and Santana becomes captivated with someone other than Quinn.

Quinn honestly doesn't know how it happened. Brittany was just some _girl_ who waltzed her way into Santana's heart, and she didn't like it, not one bit. Santana was immediately captivated. She started canceling their hangouts and bringing Brittany to their lunch dates. Before Quinn knew it, she was stuck at home while Brittany hung out with Santana, she was the girl who was uninvited.

She just didn't understand how the only person who loved her could leave her so quickly, especially for a girl as dense as Brittany. There was nothing substantial there, no reality that Santana could build a future on, so why did she pick Brittany over her? Why did she decide that Quinn was no longer worth being her best friend?

It hurt her more than it should have, and Quinn fell back into old ways quickly. Her desire was to hurt Santana like Santana was hurting her. So she got drunk and headed over to Puck's house. It wasn't supposed to be something to remember, and it's funny, because she thinks that's why God made it a night she can't ever forget.

It's the night she conceived Beth (the name she would have given her daughter-if _it_ had been a girl-had she not proceeded to get an abortion), and it's the night she almost ruined everything.

Immediately after Puck fucks her, Quinn feels guilty, so she drives over to Santana's house because she can't think of anyone else. Her emotions are scattered and all over the place. She doesn't understand what's going on or why she's acting this way, but Quinn knows she needs to see Santana anyway, because she always knows what to do.

Quinn's wearing the babydoll dress that Santana had bought her for her fifteenth birthday, and somehow, that makes it all _worse_.

When she gets to Santana's house, she uses the spare key they hide in their plant to sneak in. All she wants is to cuddle with Santana and have her tell Quinn how they are going to make it out of this fucking town, all Quinn wants to hear are promises.

Instead, she gets reality.

She pushes open Santana's door and is almost ready to tiptoe in when something else greets her entirely. Brittany and Santana are asleep on Santana's bed, and they're naked, like buck ass naked.

Everything becomes intensely clear then and Quinn stumbles out, knocking into the door in the process. Quinn knows that Brittany saw her, because she always knows things like that, and she still runs anyway.

It's scary because Quinn just found out her best friend is a fucking lesbian, and yet, all she can think is that she doesn't want to share her with Brittany S Pierce.

* * *

It takes two days for Santana to try and talk to her. Three weeks for Quinn to find out she's pregnant. One more week for Santana to finally confront her (like sharp nails and all), after Quinn had been dodging her for nearly a month, and two more weeks for Quinn to get an abortion.

* * *

She's at home sitting on her bed when Santana comes barging in, her eyes weary and her mouth snarled. Quinn should be surprised, but honestly? She's been expecting it since the day she dodged Santana the first time. She's exhausted from avoiding the girl because when Santana wants something, she's relentless, and Quinn is always the one to cave first.

Quinn doesn't know what to say, this is Santana's floor now, so she keeps her mouth shut.

Santana slams her door shut and locks it, her eyes never leaving Quinn's. "Noah Puckerman? Fucking Noah Puckerman? You let him stick his dick inside of you?"

The words are so vulgar that Quinn frowns disapprovingly. "What's it to you?"

Her heart sinks when Santana looks at her. The girl looks torn between anger and heartache and it's almost exactly where Quinn is, too. "You're my best friend?"

"I wasn't your best friend when you were fucking Brittany." It leaves her mouth before she can stop it and she winces at how detached she sounds.

Santana freezes and it's a minor win for Quinn. "You know?"

Quinn huffs, her mind racing at the fact that Brittany didn't even her. "Of course I do."

Santana deflates physically, defeated. "Is that what this is about? You don't want to be my best friend anymore because I'm sleeping with a girl?"

"What?" Quinn answers confused. "No. That isn't i-"

Santana cuts her off, her fire returning to her eyes and her hands clenching next to her Cheerio skirt. "And then you go and get off with a jackass who gets you _pregnant_, and you don't tell me? I get to find out how you got an abortion from _Puck_-who, by the way, I fucking beat the shit out of before I shoved him in the damn dumpster-instead of from you, because you're pissed that I'm with a damn girl?!"

Quinn jumps up, her anger rising with Santana's. "I don't care that you're a freaking lesbian!" She practically shouts, which is effective in cutting of Santana's tirade. "I care that you chose her over me, you left me for her, you fucked her instead..." Quinn trails off before she can finish because she honestly doesn't know what's coming next, and she honestly doesn't think that she wants to get there. Not right now, not when she's where she is right now, in her parents house. Her piggy bank cracked open in her search for money for her _abortion_. Quinn doesn't need this, not now, not when everything is already falling apart.

Santana stares at her, just like she always has, except now Quinn feels uncomfortable underneath her gaze. She looks curious, and Quinn doesn't want to sate her. "What are you saying?"

Quinn shakes her head, admittance not an option. "Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, Quinn, not now."

Quinn stared back at Santana, everything at the tip of her tongue. But old habits die hard, and so she buries it along with the rest of herself. "Then don't make me."

Santana looks past her then, and it's almost as much of an answer as it is not an answer. Quinn doesn't get it, she can't make herself connect to this moment so that she can realize it's importance. She's too detached, too torn between Santana and her empty womb. She doesn't now how to exist in this moment with Santana, at least not anymore, and she doesn't know how to explain it either. She wants to explain it to Santana, she wants her best friend to understand.

But change doesn't work like that. Change happens slowly over the course of time, and if Quinn really thought about it, she could pinpoint the moment when everything started heading this way. Instead she takes notice of the change, just like everyone else does: suddenly. She notices how Santana doesn't fight her (because maybe she isn't ready to hear whatever Quinn has to say, either), how she looks past her instead, like Quinn doesn't exist outside of this moment. Maybe she doesn't.

"Sure." Is all Santana says.

_Sure_ is all Quinn deserves.


	2. You Can't Expect Me To Be Fine

_A/N: Wow! The response to my story was so quick AND so lovely, you guys truly are great. I had been thinking that nobody would enjoy it and then you guys came along, haha. Anyway, it goes without saying, but some of this story will follow certain events in the show. The majority of this story won't, but some will, so you've been warned! SUPER IMPORTANT: THIS CHAPTER AND THE PREVIOUS ARE BASICALLY LIKE SUMMARY CHAPTERS, SO TIME WILL GO BY FAST UNTIL IT GETS TO THE POINT I WANT IT TO. IT'S BACKSTORY! Also, fun tidbit: every title I use is from a song that reminds me of Santana and Quinn, so there's that :). Enjoy!_

* * *

**You Can't Expect Me To Be Fine (I Don't Expect You To Care)**

A sort-of truce follows in the days after their fight.

It's mostly just silence, but all of their best plans have been unspoken, so Quinn chooses to acknowledge it as something other than what it is. She could spot a semi-good thing when she saw it, and she wasn't going to spoil what remained.

The silence should be terrifying, and in a way, it _is._ But she was born into a silent household, she grew up where it was better to be condescending then it was to be loved. Quinn could handle this as long as she had Santana.

It goes to show that The Fabray line doesn't run as deep as it should because all in all, Quinn would take silence over loneliness, any day. It's so unlike the rest of her family that Quinn almost worries it will be the true cause of her demise. The Fabray genes is what gets her family so far, it's what got Charlotte to Columbia. Charlotte was the live action version of ruthless. She didn't stop for anyone, not even Quinn, because Charlotte believed caring for people dragged you down. Charlotte believed that caring was the difference between the people who made it out of Lima and the people who didn't.

Quinn is ruthless, in her own way, but it's mostly herself that she lashes out against instead of others.

Their fight is brutal, just like everything else they do, create, and burn together. It destroys things because that's what they've always done best.

They meld together harshly now, and it's noticeable to everyone, even the kids they torment. There is this constant pull and push between them, instead of the seamless binding that they used to have. Santana no longer seems intent to follow, and Quinn has to regularly curse Brittany under her breath. Curse her for making and breaking Santana, for making her bold where she used to be a coward, and for making Santana want things instead of just taking them.

There are moments where Santana hesitates and Quinn likes to believe that these are the moments when Santana's at her best. When Santana hesitates, there is no mask anymore. There are no words and no lies, no false promises. There is only _her _Santana, and it's definitely a sight to see.

In these moments, Santana doesn't have to say anything because Quinn can see that Santana misses her. Quinn doesn't say anything back because Santana knows she feels the same.

The root of this problem, is the fact that they're both far too stubborn to relent. Quinn is too stubborn to try and like Brittany, and Santana is too stubborn to give Brittany up.

It's fitting, in a way, that their similar characteristics is what's keeping them apart.

* * *

Everything feels different now, in a way that is worse than before.

It's been three weeks since they fought and nothing about their situation has changed, but everything else has. The loyalty is still there, the devotion is still present (forced into longing glances), and the love still lingers like fingertips. But everything else has changed.

They're not a team, not anymore. Santana ebbs where Quinn tries to flow, and it all just feels like a bad dance routine that neither can remember the steps to. Everything about their dynamic used to be effortless, and it isn't until it's almost gone that Quinn realizes she misses it.

What she's stuck with now is worth a lot less and it weighs a lot more. What she has now is a _competition_. A rivalry where every moment is another memory that Quinn has to compete with Brittany to be a part of. For Santana, it's all about pretending like she doesn't need Quinn, like she never has.

It's irritating, and Quinn finds herself wanting to shake Santana until she's normal. She wants to grab a hold of her sometime best friend and shake away the girl who's taken over Santana since Brittany arrived. She wants to grab Brittany and stick her thumb in her eyes, she wants to grab Brittany by the neck and throttle her until she gives Santana back, because Quinn can't be alone. Not here, not now.

She wishes she could hate Santana, but she physically can't. And she can't hate Brittany, not outright, because Brittany is good in all the ways that Quinn isn't, and it's only a matter of time before people other than Santana notice.

She doesn't need more enemies, not now. What she needs is to keep Santana, just for a while longer, and the quickest sure-fire way to do that is to promote Brittany to Co-Captain. She despises herself while she's doing it, but Quinn Fabray has always been a girl full of pretenses, so she puts on a fake smile and hugs Brittany like she's the one that actually matters.

Santana looks at Quinn as if she's suddenly found her after hours of looking, and when all the Cheerios leave the locker room to get back to class, Santana sticks behind. It's the first time in weeks that Santana's made the effort to be alone with Quinn, so she takes it.

Santana leans against the lockers, the spitting image of what effortlessly cool is supposed to be. "You didn't have to do that."

Quinn shrugs because they both know that isn't true. "Yeah, I did." Is what she says.

Santana pushes off the locker and rushes towards Quinn, her arms enveloping her tightly. She's practically crushing Quinn, and it makes sense, because Quinn has always figured that Santana would be the only one capable of doing so. "I love you, Quinn. Thank you so much for understanding."

It's the nicest thing Santana has ever said to her, literally, and Quinn realizes that Santana took Quinn's gesture as approval and not as desperation. It's the wrong message to send, but with Santana's arms wrapped around her...well, Quinn can't seem to care. When breathing becomes an issue, she pushes at Santana's shoulders, ignoring how everything about Santana has always been so smooth.

"Just don't come crying to me when she breaks your heart."

It's not an admission of anything, and it'd be stupid for Santana to take it as such. It's seeped with disapproval and Quinn knows that Santana can hear it, but she also knows that Santana's Santana, and she'll ignore the things she can until she can't anymore.

"She won't." Santana says, her voice laced with trust that took Quinn months to earn. Quinn wants to punch Santana, she wants to smack her in the damn face and tell her to stop being an idiot. To stop having faith in something so blind and so stupid as Brittany.

"Okay." Is what she says instead, and it's reminiscent of their first encounter, so Quinn leaves it alone.

* * *

The weeks that follow are incredibly difficult. Christmas is rearing it's ugly head and it's a constant reminder of how much her life sucks. Everything has been harder for Quinn since the fight, since the abortion. Quinn finds herself stuck in a weird life of limbo. She spends her days floating through a routine she never even drafted, like she's just waiting for life to start.

It irritates her because without goals and focus, all of this seems useless.

Santana tries to be there and it's nice, sometimes. She brings Brittany around a lot because she thinks that Quinn just needs to spend more time with her. Quinn wishes that were the case, but the real truth is that Quinn could never love Brittany, not while she's with Santana.

It's stupid to be jealous of a girl who confused U.S History for a relationship class, but alas, here Quinn is. She's seething from afar and it feels very unbecoming.

She feels herself coming apart at the seams.

She plots and she ploys and she pushes for Santana and Brittany to break up, but it really only makes them stronger. So a week before Christmas, Quinn just gives up and checks out. She becomes detached and cold, her demeanor constantly rigid and frigid.

If there's nothing left to keep her here anymore, then what's the point of being here at all?

* * *

The next month passes by pretty much the same. She focuses her attention on Finn because it's easier to focus on someone who's willing to do anything for her instead of focusing on a girl who can't even focus on anything other than Brittany.

Santana comments about Finn's awfulness constantly, and it almost feels like she cares, so Quinn starts dating him again, just so she can feel something worthwhile from Santana.

It works, and shortly after her reunion with Finn, Santana invites her over to her house.

It's Valentine's Day and Quinn has absolutely no issue canceling on Finn thirty-two minutes before their date. That says more than the box of chocolates that he got her and the cuff links Quinn got him.

Quinn arrives a little late to Santana's. Even though she's practically fawning over her friend, she doesn't want to appear too desperate. After all, appearances are everything, especially in Lima.

Santana opens the door on the second ring and pulls Quinn into a hug. The affection is new, and Quinn doesn't exactly hate it, she just doesn't understand it. She's never been good at accepting affection, and immediately she feels suspicious when Santana pulls away.

"Queen Quinn!" Santana chides excitedly. Quinn grins, she hasn't heard that nickname in a while and Santana's enthusiasm is downright infectious.

"Yes Santa-ana?" Quinn teases back, and for a second everything almost feels normal. Until Quinn remembers what day it is and where she's at. "Where's Brittany?"

Santana shrugs dismissively. "Not here. I told her we needed a bestie night. Plus, she gets it." Santana steps to the side, a gesture for Quinn to come in.

Quinn steps into Santana's house confused, she slid off her shoes and followed Santana into the living room, her eyes noticing the various amounts of snacks scattered across the living room. "What do you mean, she gets it?"

Santana's face heats and she looks away from Quinn. She's in her Cheerio sweats and a tank top and it shouldn't work, but everything about Santana has always worked around Quinn, so it works in wonders. Santana steps to the coffee table, her hair moving in waves, like everything else that Santana's ever moved. She leans over and for a brief moment, Quinn thinks that she checks out Santana's ass.

She doesn't have time to dwell on the what-if's, the quite possibly's, and the what-the-fuck's, because Santana is turning back to Quinn with an embarrassed look on her face and her hand outstretched. It takes Quinn a moment to realize that Santana is trying to hand her something. When she does realize it though, Quinn grabs the object from Santana's hand with a gentle curiosity. It's the first time in a long time that Quinn has ever been gentle with anything, and she almost likes the feeling.

She turns the item over in her hands a few times before Santana pushes a box of chocolates and a rose into her hands too. Quinn is still staring at the Valentine in her hand that has a red haired girl and the caption, "Be Brave, Be Mine, Be Everything, Valentine."

Santana shrugs awkwardly, her eyes settling everywhere but on Quinn. "She gets that there's really only one girl who could ever be my Valentine."

It's not the statement that Quinn wants to hear. Hell, she isn't even sure what she wants to hear, but her stomach flutters at Santana's sentiment anyway. It's nothing like what Santana would say to Brittany, because Brittany likes sappy moments and Quinn can't breathe in them, but it's the "you had my heart first" that Quinn has needed to hear.

It doesn't fix all their problems, not by a long shot. But later, when Santana's curled around Quinn, her arm clutching Quinn's stomach possessively, Quinn thinks that Santana's well on her way towards fixing _something._

* * *

She decides to give Brittany what she deserves; a chance. She doesn't want to go down the same road with Santana again, and if it takes befriending Brittany...then Quinn thinks she might just have to do it.

She'll be brave, she'll do everything, and she'll be Santana's while she's doing it.

* * *

The months that follow pass by quickly, and Quinn finds it much easier to handle the sappiness that is Brittany and Santana.

They aren't out, not really, but they love each other so openly and so freely that it's impossible not to see it. Quinn thinks that she's rather numb to their coupling and she rather likes having it that way. Brittany isn't bad, but she's no Santana, so Quinn tries not to be around her without her best friend in the vicinity.

They rule the school like the should: skillfully. Brittany's all grace and kindness where Santana is all boldness and outrage, and Quinn rounds them out by being all plots and deception. They've got the school underneath their thumb and it's great.

Brittany convinces them to join Glee because they have everything running so smoothly that there's literally nothing else to do, no one else to manipulate. Santana and Quinn immediately object because they're two peas in a fucking pod. Santana gets suckered into it because she can't say no to Brittany and Quinn gets suckered into it because she can't say no to Santana.

They bring along Puck and Finn because they're dumb and Glee Club literally needs the people to compete in Regional's. The first time they attend, everyone is silent and terrified by the Unholy Trinity, and Quinn almost quits on the spot.

This is where Brittany succeeds where nobody else could. Mr. Schue is singing some awful version of Gold Digger during their third meeting and Brittany-in all of her air headedness- just _moves_. She awes everyone in the room, like she always does when she's dancing. Brittany doesn't think when she's dancing, and it shows, because there's no practice or awkward choreography, everything just works.

It's such a beautiful moment that Quinn almost falls in love with Brittany, too, but then she remembers that she's supposed to hate this girl, so she looks away.

It's too late for everyone else though, Santana included, because they're obviously smitten. It takes two more meetings for Rachel Berry to officially invite them into the club and one solo to Santana for Santana to love the club like she used to love Quinn.

It's gross, how simple minded these kids are. How they could all believe that they're something special with the ability to make it out in the real world, to make their dreams come true just because they love something. Quinn knows better, she knows her mother. Success rates are far and few between in Lima, and she knew that it took hard work for someone to even notice you, let alone get out.

Either way, it's nice to not have to think.

It's awkward as hell when Rachel tries to befriend her, but overall? It's kinda nice. In a Lima Loser kind-of way.

* * *

Thanks to Santana and Quinn's assertiveness, Brittany's choreography, and Rachel's voice, New Directions is on it's way to Nationals. It's no big deal to Quinn because she's won two of those already on the Cheerios, and those were with Santana, so they obviously mattered more. Plus, Glee Club sectionals and Regional's, were both before Winter Break, and Quinn often had more spare time than usual during those first few months.

Still, it's nice to feel a bit like a kid sometimes.

In Glee Club there is no hierarchy, there are no feelings of being left out. There are no important couples and kids weren't popular based solely on drive and looks. In Glee Quinn could read again, she could offer insightful opinions that weren't about Zac Efron or James Franco.

In Glee Club she could be Quinn instead of Quinn Fabray.

So when Rachel Berry leaves for Winter Vacation with the promise of keeping in touch, Quinn Fabray decides to hold her to it.

* * *

She's on her second week of Winter Vacation and reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower when she hears frantic banging at her door. She's a Junior and _sixteen_, so Quinn is trying to capture the essence of being effortlessly cool while looking smoky and mysterious.

The banging continues and Quinn remembers that her parents are out of town, _again_. So Quinn practically slides her way outside of her room and scampers down her stairs. She opens her door quickly, wondering if it's Rachel for round two in Wii Bowling, when she freezes at the sight of Santana.

She's _crying_, her Santana is crying, and Quinn has absolutely no idea what to do.

She reaches out to pull Santana towards her and her arm hits Santana's breast. Quinn squints her eyes in confusion, noticing how Santana's bust looks abnormally large. Well, that's new.

Quinn carries on, undeterred, and effectively grabs Santana's arm, pulling her into her house and away from the prying eyes of her neighbors. Santana looks like a hot mess. She's in Brittany's favorite sweatshirt and her eyes are red. Quinn wants to comfort her, but she's never really been good at anything like that, so she stays silent.

Like usual.

"Brittany-she-" Santana chokes, tears flooding her eyes. "I saw her kissing Artie, fucking Artie."

Quinn rears her head back, her first instinct is to find Brittany and kill her. Her second is to tell Santana that she wasn't supposed to come crying to her and that she though Santana understood. However, Quinn settles on the third thing, which is of course the wrong thing, because Quinn's at her best when she's acting wrongfully. "Did your boobs get bigger?"

Santana looks at Quinn in disbelief. "What?"

"Um," Quinn looks away. "Nothing. Wait, Brittany cheated on you?"

Santana shrugs helplessly, her hand pulling on her sweats and forcing them to slide down her hips accidentally. Quinn's eyes choose that moment to linger on the sliver of skin that's showing instead of watching Santana, and it takes a couple minutes before Quinn checks back in. "...and so she hooked up with Artie."

"I'm sorry," Quinn says, even though she really isn't. "What did you just say?"

Santana rolls her eyes and Quinn cheers silently because at least she's stopped crying. "Brittany was upset that I didn't want to come out, not yet, and so she fucking made out with Artie."

Quinn jerks her head in irritation, her mood changing quicker than one of those rings. "How does that even make any sense?"

Santana's eyes start tearing up again. "It doesn't, at least, to everyone but Brittany. I think she broke up with me."

"Okay?" Quinn asks, because she sincerely is okay at the idea of no more Brittany.

Santana's shoulders shake and her eyes water pathetically. It's shameful for someone so great to be reduced to something so little, so tiny and powerless. Quinn can't wrap her head around it, so instead she wraps her arms around Santana.

"I have to get her back." Is what Santana mumbles into Quinn's shoulder, and Quinn hates it. It's the wrong decision, Santana is always wrong when Quinn is right, and she never takes the time to pay attention. She never takes the time to notice Quinn like she notices Brittany.

It's wrong, because Quinn should have been selfless, she should have offered Santana her shoulder and her couch. Instead, she thought about all the things she's waited for and the things she could have back. Most of all, she thought about all the things she could take and something came over her.

She pulled away and grabbed Santana's face, her fingertips brushing away the tears from Santana's eyes. "Don't do it."

Santana looked at Quinn bewilderedly. "What?"

Quinn didn't answer, instead she did the thing that's been eating away at her. The thing that hid underneath her thoughts, hardly gone and barely there. She grabbed Santana's face and pushed their lips together.

It was most likely the least romantic, slobbery, awkward kiss that any human being had ever experienced on the face of the planet.

And it was _perfect._

Sometimes, people are stupid because they can't help but be anything else. Quinn wishes that she regrets her actions as Santana pushes her way, she wishes that she understands what the kiss means, but at the end of it, she only feels really stupid.

"What the fuck, Fabray?!" Santana practically screams as she scrambles away from Quinn. "What was that?"

"That was me not lying to you."

Santana stared at Quinn, her eyes hardened and her mind remembering their fight from over a year ago. It goes to show how much Santana has changed and how much Quinn has stayed the same, when Santana steels her shoulders and looks over Quinn instead of at her. "Yeah, well, I wish that you had."

When Santana opens Quinn's door and leaves almost exactly as she came into Quinn's life, quickly and blatantly, Quinn almost wishes that she had too.


	3. I Feel Like Something's Gonna Give

_A/N: Last summary chapter! I enjoyed Santana, a lot, and I hope it worked out well. So here's this. There's a part in this story that might sound familiar to some, it's from years ago though, so I don't know. Anyway, please read and review! (Also, I made up Brittany's school...for obvious reasons.)_

_Disclaimer: I borrowed a line from Casablanca in here, because it's beautiful. I don't own it, i just borrowed it. Oh, and a quote from How I Met Your Mother.  
_

* * *

**I Feel Like Something's Gonna Give**

**(And I'm A Little Bit Angry)**

Santana Lopez was six, scrawny, and most definitely the runt of her family. She was the fifth and final child in a family of seven, and it was often hard for her to get noticed.

She was the only girl in a long line of strong men, and her older brothers all viewed her femininity as if it were her greatest weakness, so Santana tried not to rely on it.

The problem was that her parents already had four boys, so when they noticed their daughter playing around in the dirt instead of with barbie dolls, they lost interest.

They loved her, of course. They were just tired of the reckless life of boys. They had been craving the cleanliness and softness that only a daughter could bring. So when Santana started acting just like her brothers, they figured that it just wasn't meant to be.

Santana, a girl without priorities, had no idea how to stand out in a family so full of character, so she did her best to blend in. It worked, for a while, but now that she was six, she was starting to notice things differently.

She liked the color purple for starters, but she couldn't wear it because the playground was no place for such things. The playground was dark, dirty, and fit for kings. The color purple would stand out in a line full of dark blues and subtle grays. Purple would be a sight for sore eyes during freeze tag, it would bring awareness to the fact that she was, indeed, a girl.

Overall, up until now, Santana had been fine with that. She was in awe of her brothers and would do anything to be just like them. So she sacrificed her girly side in favor of a more redeeming one.

Except, something crazy started happening after she turned six. She didn't want to he around any boys who weren't her brothers, but the girls? The girls were pretty and clean and Santana could stare at them all day.

So she did.

She was six and a half when her classmate Dave. Asshat -her older brother Matthew taught her to say that, she doesn't really know what it means, but it sounds cool-Karofsky, calls her a _dyke._

She doesn't know what that means, either, but she knows that it's bad because her older brother Eric punches Dave in the face before he can even finish.

She doesn't know what to do because Eric has never been mean before, he's the nice one, so she _cries._ She cries and then she cries harder because she hates the fact that she's such a baby, a girl who needs her brothers to fight her battles for her.

Eric realizes that Santana's by him a little too late, because by then, she's already a hot mess. He scoops her up then, just like he's always done (and how she always hopes he'll do) and carries her away.

"Ana," he says, his voice soft and his arms strong. "Don't listen to stupid boys, okay?"

Santana buries her head into his shoulder. "But you're a boy."

Eric laughs, Santana has always been too smart for her own good. "Yeah, but I'm your big brother, I get a free pass from being stupid."

Santana nods. Eric has always made sense of everything that didn't.

He grips her tighter and Santana squeezes back just as hard, "don't let anyone ever tell you who or what you are, alright? You make your own rules, you decide who you're going to be. The rest of the world can go fuck themselves."

Santana gasps because she's pretty sure Eric just said a bad word. "I want to be just like you." Santana huffs out proudly and she can almost hear Eric huff in return.

"Ana, you'll be something _better_, you just need to try. Don't stop being different, that's how people notice you, okay?"

"Okay."

Santana Lopez was six and a half when she stopped being just like all of her brothers, when she stopped waiting for life to hit her, and started being awesome instead.

That's a true story.

* * *

Santana Lopez was a great many things: beautiful, for one, because _duh._ Her beauty was as flawless as her well placed jabs.

Amazing, for two, because no one else spotted Quinn when she was still Lucy and saw that she could be _something_ bigger and something better than a lame eighth grader.

She's confident because she single handedly created **THE** Quinn Fabray on a bench in the middle of Spring. She's cocky because, hello, she's fucking _awesome _and she's got the assets of a fucking video queen. She's all of these things because she can be, because she chose to be. She worked hard for them, she sweated and burned and pushed to be here now, so she's gonna YOLO the shit out of it.

Her brothers tease her relentlessly about her outfits and her now undeniable femininity. They don't get it, because they think that power is all fists, blood, and warfare.

Santana knows better, real power is commanding attention with one swish of her hips, flip of her hair, or squint of her eyes. Real power is winning the war without ever having to go into battle.

It all seems so long ago when she thinks about it, but she realizes that it's not time that's passing her by, it's her youth, and it's a constant reminder that she doesn't have time to deal with Quinn's new lesbian identity crisis. The seconds are ticking down and if Santana isn't careful, she'll lose every opportunity that's set to get her out of this shitty town.

It's scary that Quinn kissed her because when Santana created this plan years ago, she had only gotten as far as getting the hell out of Lima. She wasn't known for her brevity or outstanding wit. She was rash, quick, and cruel because she was better in short term situations. She was better in quick defense, Quinn was the one who devised plans for the long haul. It's part of why they worked so well together.

As a matter of fact, now that she thinks about it, nothing about Quinn was supposed to be long term. She was supposed to exist only so that Santana could achieve everything she wanted while flying under the radar. But somewhere along the way, Quinn crept into her fucking heart, and that was enough of a change. She didn't need Quinn going around kissing her and fucking up everything again.

Santana's already had to rearrange her escape plan to fit Quinn, she can't handle more change right now, not with Brittany encompassing so much of her heart.

It's not that she doesn't love Quinn or that she doesn't see her like that, because fuck, Quinn had really developed into one hot piece of ass over the years. It's just-it took Santana years to change into this girl, it took her years to finally matter and she wasn't ready for it to end. She needed Quinn to stay the same crazy bitch because Santana wasn't so sure their plan to survive Lima would work without it.

It's too much to think about and Santana has always been more for rash decisions, so she does they only thing she can think of after Quinn kisses her, she _runs._

She runs away from Quinn and she runs away from change as quickly as she can.

* * *

The world is full of foolish people doing foolish things, and Santana believes she's now one of them. It's not choosing, not really, because Santana isn't choosing anyone over anybody else. She's just trying to survive.

It's easy to give herself to Brittany because Brittany is the definition of _easy_. Literally, Santana would bet money that if someone looked the word up in the dictionary, there would be a picture of Brittany's face right underneath it.

Brittany's easy for Santana to understand because she's nothing like Quinn and it's nice not to be on her toes all of the fucking time. Brittany doesn't demand answers, she only gives Santana time and options and the idea that maybe it's okay for her to be a screw up every now and again.

Quinn is the goddamn opposite. She's a fucking Sudoku puzzle in it's prime. Santana never knows what she's thinking or what she wants, and she's tired of Quinn looking at her like Santana's saving her whole fucking world. It's too much pressure to be everything to someone, and yeah, she loved the shit out of her, but that's also why Quinn scared her. She hadn't loved something so freely and so willingly since her brothers, and it was fucking terrifying.

Plus, Santana remembers that when she told Quinn she loved her, Quinn never said it back.

* * *

School is relatively awkward considering Santana and Quinn don't speak, even when they're forced to command The Cheerios together.

Everything for them has always been natural (at least when it comes to commanding others) so not much needs to be said. It's easier to ignore one another then it is to bring attention to the problem. It would mean acknowledging the kiss and both girls know there isn't a chance in hell either one of them would do that in a public setting.

Santana doesn't tell Brittany about it, not really, even though they're back together. What happens between her and Quinn isn't really any of Brittany's business so she doesn't feel guilty. She does, however, feel like that fact alone is the first sign that she's already chosen (at least in a way).

Overall, school passes by quickly and uneventfully. The months come and go without warning and before Santana realizes it, it's already June and she's won her third National's trophy for Cheerleading and her first for Glee.

She misses Quinn, she really does, but she's stubborn. She misses Quinn like she misses fucking Breadsticks and it's insatiable, so she finds herself thinking about Quinn and her kiss more frequently than she should.

The more Santana thinks about it, the more she thinks Quinn jumped the gun too early, and Santana can't prevent the horrific image of Finn that pops into her head. She likes to think that if Quinn were a boy, she'd be a lot better than Finn and his early arrival problems. But these days she's not so sure.

She's sitting on her bed thinking about life, which is rare, because Santana really hates to think. She'd much rather be watching a marathon of The Real Housewives of something then be doing this, but alas, life really is changing and taking Santana along with it.

Anyway, she's on her bed when Brittany calls her, and Santana answers quickly. "What's up Britt-Britt?" She isn't really sure when they got back together, and maybe that's a sign, but she does know they're kind-of together again.

"I think Lord Tubbington is a vegetarian. He's not eating the steak I bought him from Breatstick's and it's been three days." Floats through her receiver and Santana tries not to roll her eyes even if it's meant affectionately.

"B, I told you that cats don't eat meat."

"Why not?" Brittany asks, her voice sounding affronted. "I saw this cat on Youtube do it."

Santana sighs. "No, B, you saw a lion do it. Lord Tubbington and a lion a two very different things."

"Not true." Brittany argues back. "They're both from the cat family."

Santana relents because there is no way to win against Brittany. "You're right, maybe he just doesn't like the flavor?"

"I did pour A1 sauce all over it..." Brittany trails off and Santana knows it's minutes before she loses Brittany's attention completely.

"Britt, why did you call?"

"Huh?" Brittany asks, her voice far away before the sound of breathing gets heavier. "Oh! I called to tell you that I ran into Quinn today."

Santana felt her heart pound. "You ran into Quinn?"

"Yeah, she looked pretty." Brittany says flippantly, as if it's the most obvious fact in the world. It kind-of is though.

"Yeah?" Santana half agrees, half asks. She's curious as to what Quinn's been up to because even though a part of her can't move past Quinn's actions, a bigger part of her misses her best friend. She fucking misses having a partner in crime that never judged her cruelty or her words.

Brittany smacks her lips together loudly. "She said to tell you hi."

"She did?"

Santana could almost hear Brittany nodding her head 'yes'. "Rachel said hi, too."

Santana freezes. Her hand on her phone and her mouth hanging open. "Rachel?"

"Yeah, they were together at the mall. They were going to some movie."

Santana has to literally push down the urge to rush out and find Rachel just so she can throttle her. Quinn is her best friend, there were no take-backs and there was no stealing, Rachel couldn't have her best friend when Rachel was freaking _Rachel Berry (social pariah, Glee Club or not)_. She barely deserved the ground Quinn walked on and her best friend should know better then to willingly associate with the likes of Berry.

_Well_, Santana thinks, _maybe Quinn isn't her best friend anymore._

That thought alone burns more than the kiss did.

* * *

She gets a summer job at Breadsticks under the guise that she wants to learn what real work feels like. Her father buys into it and buys her a fucking Jeep, and it's one step closer to getting where she really wants, so she takes it.

It's pretty much the biggest lie she's ever told her father, because Santana's only there so she can steal the restaurants leftover Breadsticks. Nobody notices when Santana brings in a garbage bag and fills it up before leaving before the start of her shift. It isn't her fault, not really. Her cravings get worse in the summer and she isn't the type to deny herself anything she wants, not anymore.

* * *

The start of Senior year comes quickly, almost too quickly.

Santana has to admit, she's curious as to how Quinn's been making it through the summer. She's meant to call Quinn multiple times, but that's the thing with time, it's easier to move on because time makes it easier to forget. It's easier and easier to pretend like something never happened with each passing day, and Santana doesn't want to her mistakes anymore. Not these days.

_Still_, she's never spent a first day of school without Quinn, at least not for awhile. So Santana sucks up her pride and sends Quinn a text message an hour before Cheerios practice.

_Happy Senior Year, bitch. I love you, let's kick this year's ass._

* * *

She's halfway through her day when Rachel comes running up to her, crying. She has half a mind to tell the Hobbit to back the fuck off before she Gandalf's her shoe up her ass, when Rachel mentions Quinn.

All Santana hears is '_Quinn'_ and '_texting'_ and '_accident'._

She quickly grabs her phone and opens up her messages. What she sees makes her run to the bathroom, a hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes.

**Quinn**: _I love you, t-_

* * *

When all great things fall, it's always the same. The strongest part _fails_ and then the rest comes tumbling after it.

* * *

It's Brittany that tore them apart (except not really, because it's Santana's poor reaction skills and stubborn nature, and Quinn's awful timing that did that) and it's Brittany that brings them back together again.

She pushes Santana into her car and follows Rachel to the hospital. When they arrive she sits down next to Santana and grasps her thigh as if she's holding Santana in place, as if she knows that Santana just really wants to run right now.

When seven hours pass by without another word from the doctors about Quinn's condition, Brittany goes to grab them some food from the vending machine. She forces a sandwich into Santana's hand and stares at her until Santana opens the package.

The sandwich is dry, bland, and hard to keep down because it isn't what she wants, not anymore. But Santana keeps it down, because it's what she deserves.

She stops eating just as quickly as she started. Not because she wants attention or because food doesn't taste the same, she stops eating because it's easiest thing to control right now. It's effortless, her ability to retreat within herself.

* * *

She finally falls asleep around four in the morning, and it's useless, because even her dreams involve memories of Quinn before the accident. Moments where Santana could have done something instead of being a righteous dumbass.

_"Why do you think these companies that initially start off successful, fail?" _

_Finn looked around the room and raised his hand, as soon as Mr. Royce called on him he answered. "Bad area codes?"_

_Puck snorted, his response coming without the permission of the teacher. "Don't be an idiot, bro, it's because they try to take more than they should."_

_Quinn raised her hand then and waited patiently for Mr. Royce to call on her. Santana pretended not to hear the words that Quinn was saying because it was easier that way. "Things fail because people get greedy. They want more than what they've worked for."_

It isn't until now that Santana thinks about how right she was.

* * *

It takes Quinn eleven days to wake up without drugs. By that time, Santana has made herself a home in the hospital. The nurses are terrified of her which, good, a little fear in those bitches will make them fix Quinn faster.

Anyway, she's been there nearly every day since the accident and she's gotten used to the awful image of Berry at all hours of the day. Brittany has stuck by her side too, and it means more than Santana could ever say.

They all vote on who should be the first to see Quinn after her mother is done, and Santana is surprised when everyone present votes for her. She guesses that it makes sense, their friendship was always strong when it was strong and incredibly fragile when it was weak.

She sucks it up and traipses up the stairs because this is _Quinn_ she's talking about. Her best friend. Her one time ticket out of this hell hole, her fucking best friend. She passes Quinn's mom on the way in and from the tears in Judy's eyes, Santana knows this is going to fucking suck.

She does it anyway because that's what friends do. That's what you do when you love somebody.

* * *

Santana pushes through the doors, her breath stilled and her heart racing. She expects to see Quinn looking like _Quinn_. Her mind can't comprehend a different scenario.

So it makes everything worse when Santana pushes into the room that Quinn looks like a fucking mess. Her face is bruised and her arm is in a sling. Her foot is covered in a cast and she has wires going in and out of every fucking little thing. It's too much to look at, too much to see, and it sends what's left of Santana's world down crashing with it.

With her whole world crashing down, Santana picks this time to fall in love.

* * *

"You had to go and fucking almost die, just so you could win, didn't you?" Santana means for her words to sound harsh, but her voice cracks at the end of the sentence and her false bravado goes with it.

If Quinn is startled, it doesn't show. Instead she cracks a half smile at Santana before wincing in pain. "I'm not above fighting dirty. You know that."

Santana laughs, but it's more of a sob, and she wanders her way over towards Quinn. She hovers over her, not really knowing what to do or what to fix. "You almost fucking died on me."

"Well, I couldn't let you have the last word." Quinn jokes, and it hurts, it hurts so much that she's okay and that she's trying to make Santana feel better. It's all so wrong and so not what she wanted.

Santana leans her face over Quinn's, her eyes inspecting the real damage that's been done and her heart sinks when she realizes a lot of these will scar. "Shut up."

"Santana," Quinn hesitates, her blood seeping through the bandage on her arm. "I'm so sorry, I miss you, and I lo-"

"Shut up." Santana demands again, except this time Santana descends on Quinn before Quinn can respond.

She doesn't know what she's doing, not really, but it makes her feel better as her lips touch Quinn's mouth. She kisses her lips, her cheeks, her bandages, and her eyes, until she's certain that she's covered every part of Quinn with herself.

Santana isn't sure why, but she thinks she can fix her.

* * *

It takes three months for Quinn to be let out of the hospital. In that time span her and Santana go back to being best friends. They don't talk about the kiss because Quinn has much bigger fish to fry now that she's in a chair (for now, Santana has to remind herself, only for now) and trying to get her schooling figured out. Not to mention the fact that Santana is still with Brittany.

It's hard, all of it, but Santana works a way around it. She picks Quinn up every morning and drops her off every night because who doesn't want to show up to school in a badass motherfucking Jeep? She's doing Quinn a favor, really.

Time seems intent on moving forward, so Santana lets it, this time promising herself that nothing will come between her and Quinn.

* * *

It's January of their Senior year when Quinn officially becomes a member of the Cheerios again, gets her cane, and gives Santana her blessing (for Brittany, always for Brittany).

It doesn't happen in that order, but nevertheless, all of them have a huge impact on Santana. She's overprotective of Quinn, even more so not that she's back on the cheerios, and she intends on keeping Quinn safe.

It surprises her, Quinn's blessing of Brittany, because Santana never expected to see it. But Quinn's different now in a lot of ways and Santana is still adjusting.

* * *

Santana doesn't like Rachel.

Maybe that's a bit of an understatement. Santana loathes-that's right, she loathes-Rachel. She despises everything about her. From her tiny child-like size and her overbearing tendencies, right down to her sense of superiority in all things musical, and her undeniably unfashionable penny loafers. What kind of socially aware teenager wore those types of shoes with pride? Santana really doesn't like her.

It wasn't for the lack of trying, either.

Okay, so maybe it was. But something about the smurfette just irked her in all the wrong ways. It was like Santana's insults were the Earth, and Berry's ego was the sun; if she didn't take a little bit every day, she'd surely run out of resources, and disaster would happen. The social hierarchy would be in ruins. Well, more so then usual.

Santana really was trying though, for Quinn. Ever since Quinn had come back from the hospital she had demanded that Santana be kinder to her "friend" Rachel, and Santana really was trying. She no longer personally threw slushies at the brunette (in fact, there were none thrown at all anymore), and she tried to limit her use of Man Hands to only three times a day. Some would call it cruel, but Santana liked to call it progress. The Grinch's heart didn't grow three sizes overnight, you know? Not that Santana was trying to be nice- God forbid that she ever try and do something nice for someone that annoying- she was just trying to show her loyalty to Quinn. It should have been like freaken Christmas for Rachel, she should have been satisfied because it had pained Santana a great deal to do something that kind.

But Rachel didn't seem satisfied.

Santana had felt this terrible sense of doom-not the normal kind she felt whenever the singer was in her presence, a different kind of doom-encompassing her heart lately, and she began to notice that Berry was the sole cause-shocker, right?-of it. She could tell that Rachel and Quinn were starting to inch closer toward each other like magnets-or unpopular kids- and she just knew it spelled disaster. That's what best friends do, they fucking sense things, and try to prevent you from making a mistake that could alter your life dramatically.

Quinn seemed to be doing a fantastic job of that already.

Santana wasn't one to judge, well, all the time anyway. But the fact that Quinn so easily fell for Puck's one liners-the type that only sound good when drunk-was shocking. Quinn knew better than to be doing the things she had been doing, and maybe Santana wasn't allowed to judge Quinn's decisions-best friend pact and all, as well as her own personal resolution since Quinn woke up-but no one ever said she wasn't allowed to try and prevent them, and maybe protect the aftermath of them.

Okay, so maybe she was also a little bit jealous, but that was neither here nor there.

If she were the type of person who, you know, could admit her feelings and stuff, she would maybe say that it hurt when Quinn had decided to hang with Berry instead of her after their fight. On rare occasions, Santana would wonder what was wrong with herself, like emotional wise, because she could never bring herself to say the words out loud. Especially not to Quinn. Other times, she would realize that there was absolutely nothing wrong with her. Hello, she was practically flawless…_practically_.

All Santana knew was that she might be slightly screwed up on the inside, but so was Quinn. It was okay as long as they were screwed up together. Quinn never questioned Santana's bits-okay, bouts-of irrational anger, and Santana never questioned Quinn's need to be a heartless bitch when it mattered the least. It was practically win-win.

It was like a freaking match made in screwed up Heaven.

But then that little gnome had to come along and ruin what they had just spent so long rebuilding. Berry started to take Quinn away from Santana, again. She let Quinn be broken when Santana wanted her to be fixed, and that was just unacceptable. Santana had put a lot of time and effort into making sure that Quinn was rock solid, that she was tough enough to make it out of this hell hole. That way when graduation came, they could actually leave Lima behind with big 'fuck you but have a nice day' smiles. Santana didn't want Quinn to break. She needed Quinn to make it out of this retarded version of hell, with her and Brittany, because she had grown accustomed to them both. Unfortunately the problem with being accustomed to things is that now, Santana couldn't find it in her to leave them behind.

Santana silently cursed herself for allowing herself to get so soft.

She could have been like a fucking badass loner or something, but somewhere along the way, Brittany and Quinn had snuck under her skin and Santana just couldn't let them go. Anyone who knew her knew she didn't accustom to change. Rachel Berry just so happened to be change wrapped in a small ass body, with terrible fashion sense, and a big nose. She was threatening Santana's trio with the idea of it becoming a duo, and Santana wasn't so sure she was okay with that.

So it was simple really. Santana had only ever had two jobs that she found important to live by. The first was to be freaking amazing—which, let's face it, she was—and the second was to, under all circumstances, make sure that Quinn was okay.

So, she was going to have to make damn sure that Rachel understood where she was coming from.

* * *

It's two weeks before Graduation when Santana finally works up the nerve to do what she's been thinking about for forever. Her relationship with Quinn is better than it would have been without the accident, and Santana is far more grateful for the act of fate then she will ever admit out loud.

They still haven't talked about the kiss that Santana initiated, and Santana thinks it's best. Maybe it's better not to discuss something so fragile in a town so harsh.

Anyway, Santana is on a mission that involves one Rachel Berry, so she goes hunting for the singer, hoping that Rachel isn't with Quinn. Santana searches high and low until she spots the annoying singer by her locker. She puts on her best intimidating face and walks over towards Rachel, slamming her locker shut to get the singers attention.

It goes to show just how much has changed since Quinn's accident, when Rachel rolls her eyes and turns back to her locker, instead of cowering in fear. "What, are you stalking me now?"

Santana wants to punch Rachel on the spot, but she holds it in, for Quinn's sake. "I prefer the term dedicated enthusiast," Santana states with a shrug. "But if it boosts your tiny ego, then sure."

"I think we know from experience that my ego is anything but tiny."

Santana smiles smugly, her first instinct to corner Rachel into her locker, but her body taking a step back instead. "You know, I'm sure your mouth was moving, but all I could think about was how hideous your outfit is."

Rachel swallows, her eyes flashing in irritation. "To what do I owe these…wonderfully insulting remarks?" Rachel asks slowly.

Santana frowns because this is proving to be harder than she thought. She shoves a finger into Rachel's shoulder. "You listen here Berry, I-" Santana looks away and tells herself that this is for Quinn, it's always for Quinn. "I'm thankful that Quinn has a friend like you."

Rachel looks appalled, as if she never expected such a thing to leave Santana. Maybe she didn't. "What?"

Santana shrugs. "I'm saying thank you, for being a great friend to Quinn this past year and a half...and well, you have my blessing. As a person and shit. So, truce?"

Rachel appears to be even more confused by Santana's statement, but finally she just settles on relieved. "Thank you, Santana, it's been my pleasure...and wait, you haven't approved of me this whole time?" Rachel almost sounds appalled and Santana grins smugly.

She walks away instead of answering, because she's pretty sure that answers the question, anyway.

* * *

Graduation is lame, with a capital Loser.

Still, it's nice to hear where everyone is going.

_Noah Puckerman: UCLA_

_Finn Hudson: Who the fuck cares._

_Quinn Fabray: Yale._

_Brittany S. Pierce: Boston Dance Academy_

_Santana: NYU_

_Mercedes Jones: University of Chicago_

_Rachel Berry: NYADA_

_Kurt Hummel: NYADA_

Overall? _Successful_ is all Santana hears.

* * *

Santana invites Quinn over to her celebration immediately after graduation. She declines and Santana doesn't push because she gets it, Quinn's had a pretty tough year. It still takes her massive amounts of effort to walk for long distances, so she can't imagine how uncomfortable it would be for Quinn at the party where people would refuse to let her rest.

Overall, Santana's excited, and she tells Quinn as much before she leans over and pecks her on the lips. She's not sure what it means or where it came from, she's just happy Brittany didn't see it.

Quinn looks surprised, but pleased, and it makes Santana feel like she's falling down the rabbit hole all over again. For once, she's uncomfortable, and it doesn't make _sense_. She was doing just fine before Quinn came along all those years ago, so why does she feel like she can't survive the next few months, days, and minutes without her?

She's a bunch of crazy emotions that she never wanted to be, so Santana settles on something small before she hyperventilates. Thinking that far ahead puts too much pressure on her heart and she can't handle it right now, not today. She squeezes Quinn's hand and promises to stop by after the party.

She's intent on making sure Quinn ends her days in Lima the opposite of how she started them; with Santana (and not alone).


	4. How Do You Know If She Loves You So?

_A/N: Transitioning to a story that doesn't have as many time jumps is a little difficult for me, so let me know if this sucks, yeah? I'm trying to let it stay in the present but I'm not certain if I'm doing it well. So, yeah, please let me know! Also, I have an obsession with Quinn being carried places...I don't know why. Also, please let me know if you come across any mistakes. I do not have a beta, therefore, I do miss things. Thank you for reading, please review, and I love you!_

* * *

**How Do You Know If She Loves You So? It's In Her Kiss**

**(That's Where It Is)**

"_- the only difference between a happy ending and a sad ending is where you decide the story ends." _

Four weeks.

Twenty-eight days.

That's how long it takes Quinn to realize that Yale isn't for her. There's something to be said about Ivy League schools: yes, the education is better, but overall, it's just like High School.

You have your popular kids who got in because their families are wealthy, your sorority and fraternity cliques who got in because they're good at something other than education, and your nerdy cliques who got in on intelligence alone.

Whichever way Quinn cuts the cake, she doesn't fit in anywhere. It makes the past four years seem meaningless. She spent all of her high school career preparing for this, and now none of that work really seems to matter.

She could easily be any of those three, she thinks, but the problem is that she doesn't want to be. She was Lucy far too long to let herself rely on her good looks alone, and sure, she's athletic, but her back goes through moments where all it wants to do is _hurt_, just like her memories.

Don't even get her started on the nerds or the "intellectuals". She could easily be a part of this group, and she knows it, but she has such a problem hanging around people who can't see things literally. They're all about metaphors, grandeur, and cosmic plans. They believe that there is certainly a reason behind _everything_ and it irritates Quinn. Sometimes things happen because they _can_ and that's all there is to it. Sometimes a book is just a book and a movie is just a movie, not everything needs to be dissected and torn apart.

So, yeah, she's in Yale and yeah, it does make her sound cool and important when brought up in conversation. But overall? Yale does nothing to sate her loneliness.

Now that she's at Yale she realizes that her friendship with Santana failed so many times because they were both all about quantity and not about quality. They both thought that time built friendships instead of actual communication and love.

If Quinn is being honest with herself, she has to admit that this separation from Santana, Rachel, and even Brittany is well needed.

She loves them, she really does, but it's hard for Quinn to function when Santana's around. She reads too much into everything and it's hard to figure out who she is when she has a best friend who pretty much loves telling her.

Yale is her safe place to reinvent herself, to figure out what this thing with Santana is, if it's anything. It's her place to think and change and ponder without the temptation that Santana always brings.

It's not that she doesn't love who she was because that Quinn Fabray was perfect for that moment. No, it's that Quinn has spent the past five years being what others told her to be. Her parents, Sue, _Santana_, they all spent so long creating her that Quinn doesn't even know who she is.

So, even though she's lonely beyond measure, she tells herself to push on. For the sake of her identity, sanity, and sense of self (whatever that is anymore).

* * *

She spends the majority of her days studying and pushing through her homework, and the majority of her nights reading and rereading books. Her roommate Sadie invites her out almost constantly, to this party or another, but Quinn often finds herself declining.

It goes to show that she's making changes in strides, because she'd much rather spend her Friday nights watching Netflix or caught in a book instead of at a party pretending to matter.

* * *

Her favorite class is English 205.

Which, really, is a research English class and actually boring as hell, but she likes it nonetheless. Her Professor dotes on her and tells her how smart she is and it makes Quinn feel like she's important again. So she automatically loves it.

She can't say anything to Santana and Brittany about it because she doesn't want them to be worried. She knows they'll be worried.

Quinn knows why her Professor is paying extra attention to her, she's been best friends with Santana far too long to not know. She knows it before he asks her to stay after class, before he presses her against his desk and kisses her (badly, might she add).

She let's him do it, though. Whether it's because she's lonely or because she's trying to push out memories of soft lips and quick pecks, she isn't sure. Quinn does know that it's the easiest thing she's come across since she's been here, though, so she willingly lets it happen.

Santana would say that it's disgusting that a man of his age would ever think he could get with a girl like Quinn. She would say he thinks that he can take advantage of Quinn when he's a married man because Quinn let's him think that. But Santana isn't here, so Quinn has to do what she wants and what she can to survive.

* * *

Her phone is ringing after she leaves her Professor's office and for a second, Quinn almost believes that Santana _still_ has ears and eyes everywhere.

She almost laughs when she sees that it's Rachel, because really, old habits die hard. "Hey, Rach."

"Hey!" Rachel's excited voice filters through. "Are you busy?"

Quinn rolls her eyes on reflex because if she was busy she wouldn't have answered. "No. I just left my English class."

"Eeeeew." Rachel exaggerates. "Not the creepy one, right?"

"Yes," Quinn laughs. "The creepy one."

"You sound weird. Why do you sound weird?" Rachel asks, and Quinn can almost hear the gears shifting in her head.

"I don't, you're hearing things because you're crazy." Quinn says, but it's jokingly instead of the cruelty she used to use.

Rachel hesitates. "Oh my God."

Quinn scrambles to say something, but her pause is enough of an answer.

"_Quinn_," Rachel starts wearily, "you didn't."

"_I_ didn't do anything." Quinn bites out. "_He_ kissed me."

Rachel's disappointment is apparent through the phone and Quinn automatically wants to retreat within herself. Rachel is silent and Quinn hears a door shut. "He's married, Quinn." Rachel murmurs. "You deserve better."

"It's hard to know what I deserve these days." Quinn mutters back.

"I know that you're lonely," Rachel starts, and it spurs Quinn on.

"No, you don't, Rach. You're in a new city and you have Kurt, Santana, and Brittany. So, please, _stop_."

Rachel sighed, her tone defeated. "Okay, okay. I'll drop it...for now."

Quinn deflated, her boundaries crumbling. "Please don't tell Santana."

Her plea speaks volumes, even though it's miniscule. Rachel _knows_, Quinn thinks, because she isn't thrown off by Quinn's plea.

"Why don't you just talk to her about it?" Rachel asks, the question just as loaded as Quinn's plea.

Quinn huffs as she climbs the steps to her dorm. "About what, Rach? Because I don't even know what _it_ is...I can't, okay? Not now."

"For best friends you guys seriously have a weird way of showing it. Your communication is lackluster, at best."

Quinn laughs then, this is dropping it for Rachel Berry. She's not pushing, but she's not relenting. "Did you call me to scold me about my friend skills? I don't remember you listing any requirements in the application."

She unlocked her dorm door and pushed through, ignoring her sleeping roommate. Rachel laughed through the phone and Quinn let herself be relieved. "No, actually. But I suppose I should have made you list your references and prior experiences, that way I could see if you were truly friend material."

"You're such a weirdo."

Rachel laughs again, her voice airy and freer than it had been moments before. "You started this, Fabray, now you have to deal with it."

"My bad, next time I'll know better." Quinn jokes. "Hey, not that I don't love your massive charm, but what _did_ you call for, anyway?"

"Oh!" Rachel exclaimed. " I was calling to make sure that you're coming down tomorrow for Kurt's birthday. He's upset because Blaine can't make it and now Brittany has to leave to do some show in Chicago, so I just wanna make sure he's not more depressed than necessary."

Quinn hesitates, the idea of no Brittany tempting in too many ways. She loves Brittany now, she really does, but it's hard for her to be okay with sharing Santana. So while she isn't openly hostile towards Brittany, she's also not openly welcome. "Yeah, I'll be there."

"Yay! Okay, just text me the logistics later and we'll figure everything else out."

"Alright." Quinn agrees, ignoring the wail coming from across the room. "I'll see you later."

"Bye!" Rachel shouts before hanging up.

Quinn smiles to herself. By this time tomorrow, she'll be back with the people who make her feel like she belongs. It's enough to make her forget about her nasty Professor and how his beard was itchy instead of smooth. She hears another groan come from across the room so she picks up a pillow from her bed and throws it at the lump that's across from her.

"Stop whining, Sadie. You're the one who wanted to go out on a Wednesday. Maybe you should stay in tonight."

Sadie's head poked out from underneath the blankets and she looks at Quinn incredulously. "But it's Thirsty Thursday."

Quinn laughs at her roommate, because really, college kids sometimes.

* * *

Quinn enjoys the train ride.

It isn't very long and overall, it's incredibly peaceful. She enjoys the rush of feeling like she's heading towards something and someone. It's nice, she thinks, to always feel like you're heading somewhere.

The scenic view is pretty, like Quinn, in the sense that she doesn't get a chance to look past it's surface and take notice of it's flaws. It's a nice view, a nice corridor, and a nice train ride.

However nice it is though, Quinn can't stand to look at it for very long, so she pulls out a beaten copy of _All My Friends Are Superheroes_ and she just reads. She knows that the train is an unpopular mode of transportation, at least when she could have used a car...it's just, she's still terrified of automobiles. So she gladly took the longer option.

If Kurt and Rachel know, she wouldn't know, since they didn't say anything about her choice. She has a sneaking suspicion that Santana pushed them towards leaving her alone about this because usually Rachel Berry is all push and no budge.

_Santana._

Quinn sighed as she shut her book, her mind already running off distracted. She couldn't help it sometimes, her mind always seemed to unravel when it settled on Santana. The girl was infuriating and headstrong and so very stupid sometimes, but she still made Quinn's heart flutter and her mind race, and Quinn just didn't get it.

It's one thing to love your best friend, it's another to be in love with said friend. Not that that's what this feeling was, not that that's what this feeling could be. Quinn Fabray couldn't be gay, she just couldn't. Not because of her family's religion or because she was terrified of it. No, she couldn't be gay for the simple fact that if she was gay, she would pursue Santana relentlessly.

She's not an idiot, there's only so much she could deny. There was only so far she could go in this illusion. But, a part of her (the part of her that's sixteen and scared) remembers what it felt like to kiss Santana. It remembers what it felt like to go for it, to reach for gold, only to be sent home packing. And _that_ rejection is something she would never outlive and never want to live to see again. Even if it was for Santana.

So, no, she can't be gay and she can't be interested and she can't be any of that. She can't compete with Brittany because she knows there's no competition, the only reason she's still in the running is because she almost died, and she isn't about to almost die again.

_Still._

She sometimes wonders what would have happened if Santana had kissed her back. Would they be together? Would Quinn be able to defeat the fear of her parents disapproval that she pretends doesn't exist? Would she have willingly kissed Santana again, only in public, with eyes and ears and judgment.

She really doesn't know and she doesn't really want to know, at least not right now. She just wants to focus on her friends and this weekend and the feeling that maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay.

* * *

She struggles to pull her luggage out when the train has officially stopped, but she's too proud to ask for help. In the end, it takes her fifteen minutes and by that time she's overexerted herself and is forced to pull out her cane.

It's embarrassing, her need to rely on something other than herself, and she ducks her head so that she can avoid the stares from the other passengers. She doesn't embrace pity, and she never will.

She's already irritated by the time she exits the train, her body already defensive and her mind set. She'll just go hide in the bathroom until Rachel arrives, she decides, because it's easier to hide sometimes.

However, Quinn doesn't get the chance to. As soon as she makes it a few feet off the platform, a body comes barreling into her, crushing her body and making her yelp from pain.

"Easy, Bilbo, you're hurting her," Quinn hears Santana say before somebody is pulling the body that just hugged her away.

Quinn automatically places her hand over her spine where the scar is and Rachel (the person who had bombarded her) has the decency to look sheepish. She waves Rachel off because she knows how bad the girl feels about things.

Rachel smiles softly, her hands wringing together and Santana's hand still on her shoulder. "Sorry, Quinn, I'm just really excited to see you. You've grown so much!"

Santana laughs and Quinn cracks a smile. "I'm the same height, Rachel."

Santana let's go of Rachel, her body language relaxing as she realizes Quinn is okay. "Can you blame her? Everyone probably looks like a giant compared to her, it's hard for her to gain perspective."

"I resent that," Rachel responds, her voice attempting to sound irritated but coming out affectionate instead.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Santana says dismissively. "We get it, you're short. Let's move on."

Quinn laughs out loud this time. It's nice to see that after so many months Santana is still Santana. Sure, over the phone and during Skype she appeared the same, but it was nice to actually see it in person.

Santana grabs Quinn's duffel bag before she can protest and nods in the direction they have to go. Quinn follows, it's always made sense for her to follow, as Rachel rambles on and on about all the things Quinn is going to love about New York.

Quinn doesn't care because in this moment she already loves two, and she doesn't think she needs anymore.

* * *

They're exiting the train station when this man in a suit (and a hurry) checks Quinn with his right shoulder. It's not harsh, but it's enough to send Quinn stumbling, her would off balance.

Rachel looks back in horror, Santana barely has time to look, and the man never falters as Quinn loses the grip on her cane, and her grip on gravity. She falls, and it's more embarrassing than using a cane in the first place.

She falls for god knows how long, her ass hitting three steps as she stumbled and her head knocking against the concrete. She doesn't notice how long it takes her to hit the ground, only that when she falls there's nobody there to catch her.

How fitting.

When she opens her eyes Rachel is hovering over her. Her features scrunched up in worry and her hair falling like a curtain around Quinn's face. She doesn't have time to think much or even remember how she got here, but she does have time to say;

"_Santana_."

Rachel looks offended, and masks the look quickly before Quinn can really notice. She helps Quinn into a sitting position and gestures somewhere that she's assuming Santana is before stepping away. Quinn winces in pain as her back flares up, and she looks behind her to where her abandoned duffel bag is, her eyes prickling with tears.

She has to command herself not to cry, but the tears are still there, waiting, when Santana comes back into view. She has the man that hit Quinn in a headlock, his arm behind his back.

"What the hell!" The man exclaims, his voice hysterical. "You're fucking crazy, you bitch."

Santana kicks him down, his suit getting dirty in the process. "I don't care, jackass. Apologize."

Quinn winced again, a part of her terrified at what Santana would do, another part of her happy at the man's obvious discomfort.

"Fuck you," the man sneers petulantly.

Santana grabs his head then and shoves it towards the concrete. Rachel looks horrified and Quinn just looks. She's never seen Santana like this, but it's only a matter of time before security comes and it isn't worth it, she notes, even if this man hurt her. It isn't worth Santana getting in trouble for.

"You're gonna apologize, you prick, or so hel-"

"Santana," Quinn cuts off, effectively drawing Santana out of whatever haze she was just in. "_Stop. _Let him go."

Santana looks like she wants to object, but she let's go of the man, anyway, after kicking him in the stomach. By now a crowd has gathered, and Quinn is still in pain, so Santana does the only thing she can think of. She grabs Quinn, marital style, and lifts her up. Rachel grabs the duffel bag and pauses by the guy before thinking better of it, she reaches down and grabs something before running after Santana (who's already hailing a cab).

She's crying like a baby by the time the cab comes, and she's thankful for the fact that Santana and Rachel both notice and don't say anything.

* * *

Santana refuses to let Quinn walk once they've arrived at their apartment, and even though Quinn objects, Santana grabs her and carries her up the stairs while Rachel just gives her this look.

Quinn sends a look back that says, 'bitch, please' and it's effective in making Rachel look away. They reach the top fairly quickly and when Rachel pulls open the door, Quinn is met by the weary sight of Kurt.

He looks at her as if he's going to say something snarky before he turns away. "It's my birthday weekend and I can't even get someone to carry me to the fucking restroom."

Quinn laughs, Santana setting her down on the couch, and Rachel rolls her eyes.

"Kurt," Rachel says, rebuffing Kurt's comments. "Santana's already done her part."

Curious, Quinn tilts her head to the side, completely set on forgetting about the embarrassing incident from a few moments earlier. "What did she get you?"

Rachel blushes, her hand fiddling through her pocket as Santana smirks from afar. Quinn almost laughs because she knows that look, it's Santana's trouble look. Rachel pulls out two ID's and Quinn does laugh this time, when she realizes that Santana got them both fake ID's for this night.

Rachel looks away, her face getting red from embarrassment. "I realize the names aren't ideal, but nobody cares here. So that means we can actually have fun tonight and help Kurt forget about Blaine...and help me forget about Finn." The last part is almost whispered, but it doesn't change anything, everyone still hears her anyway. Rachel freezes. "Wait! We forgot about Quinn."

Quinn rolls her eyes and shoves her hand in her shoe, she pulled out an ID card from Hawaii, her age listed as twenty one and the card covered with rainbows. In retrospect, she could have picked a better state...one with less color, but whatever, Sadie hooked her up and it works, so that's all she cares about.

Rachel is amazed, Kurt doesn't care, and Santana looks impressed. She looks over at Quinn, her lips pulling into a smirk. "Did I mention that I love you, Fabray?"

Quinn ignores the flutter in her stomach and looks away. Kurt scoffs in response, his eyes rolling even though it's clear he's not annoyed, he just wants attention. "And what part have you done, Rachel Berry?"

Rachel rolls her eyes, her hands settling on the flat of her stomach. "You know, just cause it's your birthday it doesn't mean you also get to be an asshole."

Kurt's eyes widen and Quinn freezes. Rachel certainly was changing. Rachel continued on, her hand slipping into the inside of her waistband before pulling out something else. "And I got this."

It takes everyone a moment to realize what she's holding, and even longer for Santana and Quinn to realize what it is, but when they do, they don't contain their awe.

"Holy shit," Santana starts, her feet carrying her over towards Rachel so she can grab the money from her hand. "You got this off of that guy?"

"Wait, what guy?" Kurt asks, clearly confused.

Quinn whistles. "Wow, what a difference three months in New York with Santana Lopez makes, you little rebel without a cause."

Rachel blushes as Kurt looks back and forth between them. "What guy?!" He tries again, to no avail.

Santana grins, clearly impressed. "There's almost five hundred dollars here, Berry, you done good."

Rachel blushes again, her personality as eager to please as ever. "Thank you, Santana, it wasn't that big of a deal considering he hit our Quin-"

Santana held up a hand, effectively cutting off Rachel's tirade. "I gave you an inch, don't take a whole fucking mile."

Kurt was growing increasingly impatient at being ignored, his hands fiddling with the weird leather jacket he was wearing. "Seriously, what guy?"

Quinn laughed as Santana and Rachel ignored Kurt only to continue bickering. Quinn took this time to look around the loft. It was nice, really, and homey in a way that Kurt Hummel could always make it. Overall, it wasn't flashy and it wasn't exaggerated. It flowed seamlessly between the three personalities, there were even some things of Brittany's present, even though she was constantly away on some tour or another.

It made Quinn's heart sink when she realized she had no claim here, and it made her stop looking around so that she wouldn't have to recognize who did.

"Guys!" Kurt whined. "What guy?!"

* * *

It was hours later and they were officially waiting for Kurt to finish getting ready. For a boy, he took longer than all three girls combined. Quinn was wearing a sexy blue dress that she would never have worn in public, it was something that Sadie forced her to wear, telling her that nobody would be able to look away.

It's selfish, her reasons for wearing this dress, but she doesn't care. She's going to get drunk and have fun. However, the length makes her uncomfortable, so she pairs it with a blue leather jacket.

The effect is still there, and she knows it as she watches Santana's and Rachel's eyes rake over her figure. Sometimes it's good to be her.

Santana looked amazing, as well as Rachel. Rachel was in a sexy one shoulder, short black dress, paired with black heels. Whatever changed in the past few months was clearly working for her. Santana was...well Santana was in a short leopard print dress. No jacket, not anything, her hair up and her body exposed.

She looked ravishing, and Quinn let the thought go away as quickly as it came.

They were sitting in the living room waiting for Kurt to finish getting ready, and just catching up. Quinn was on the left side of the couch and Santana was laying on her side, her head in Quinn's lap, obviously unconcerned about her hair or her compromising position. Rachel was seated in the armchair and she was telling them how she had met this boy named Brody, how he was a Senior and nice, but completely dense and interested when he shouldn't be. He honestly sounded like a prick and Quinn's glad that Rachel's taste in men has changed, even if it's a little bit.

Rachel crossed her legs. "I don't know how to tell him I'm not interested without hurting his feelings. I need him to perform with me, after all."

It goes to show how much time has changed when Rachel Berry can't even be honest anymore. Quinn sighs, her hands playing Santana's hair. "How about honestly?"

Rachel glared, her eyes telling Quinn that her idea is stupid. "How could I honestly say that? It's kind of mean."

Quinn shrugs, not really caring. She was never one for feelings that weren't her own. She likes the idea of a challenge though, and decides to run with it. "You could say: It's not that I don't like you, it's just that if I had to make a list full of people who I don't like and the people I do, you definitely wouldn't be in the like column."

Santana laughs, her body abruptly sitting up, and Quinn can see the gears shifting in her head. "It's not that I don't like you, it's just that when I see you, I automatically run in the opposite direction."

Rachel looks like she wants to protest, but Quinn and Santana are already on a roll so they don't let her. Quinn licks her lips. "It's not that I don't like you, it's just that you suck, and I don't want to catch it."

Santana smirks. "It's not that I don't like you, it's just that when I think about seeing your face, I literally throw up a little bit in my mouth."

"It's not that I dislike you, it's just that I don't, well, like your personality. And your voice. And the whole package you represent." Quinn waves her hand to further the meaning. Her eyes on Santana only.

Santana's eyes glitter in amusement. "It's not that I don't like you, it's just that if it's between hanging out with you or being eaten by a bear, I'd choose the bear. And then I'd revive myself and choose the bear again."

Quinn lets herself laugh at that one, because it's actually funny. Rachel doesn't seem amused but Quinn doesn't care. It's moments like these where Quinn finds Santana the most attractive. When she's harsh and cruel. Her eyes are crinkled in amusement and her words are vile, the type of vile that sinks underneath Quinn's skin and heats her up before she can protest.

"It's not that I dislike just you, it's that I am free of all prejudices. I hate everyone equally." Quinn tries, her mind still distracted by the image of Santana.

"It's not that I don't like you, it's just that I'd rather stab myself in the eyes repeatedly just so I wouldn't have to look at you anymore."

Quinn nods, effortlessly thinking of another one and not paying attention as Kurt exists his bedroom in tight black pants, a white v-neck and a very gay looking leather vest. "It's not that I don't like you, it's just that I'd rather snort cocaine, get addicted, and then die of an overdose, then see you on the regular."

Santana laughs this time, because it's so bad that it's kind of good. "It's not that I dislike you, it's just that if it were between you and Hitler, I'd choose Hitler, because he knows how to have a good time."

Kurt steps into the living room, obviously irritated. "Enough! I think she gets it."

Santana turns to Quinn, her eyebrow raised curiously. "What? Too far?"

Without thinking, Quinn places her hand on Santana's thigh, only to pull back like she was burned. "S, I think when you start joking about a man who's pretty much responsible for a genocide, it's obviously too far."

Kurt rolls his eyes (which, really, get another coping facial expression) and heads towards the door, Rachel in tow.

"Freaking cheer bitches." Kurt grumbles as he heads out the door.

* * *

The club is loud, dirty, and gross, but Quinn puts up with it because Kurt finally looks less angry and Rachel is dancing with a boy who's kinda cute. Santana's making her way back, her hands on a tray and her eyes focused on Quinn.

Rachel heads over and Kurt does as well when they spot the massive amounts of shots. Quinn raises her eyes questioningly. The goal was to get buzzed, not to get plastered. But then Santana looks at her with those eyes and Quinn knows she's done for. She grabs one, tosses it back, and grimaces as the Tequila burns down her throat. Kurt and Rachel don't fare any better, however, they all seem to be on the mutual ground that they will make tonight matter.

Santana gestures for Quinn to grab another, so she does. The second shot burns just as much as the first did, and she still doesn't like the taste. But she keeps going.

The third shot is easier, only because her stomach is warm and her face is hot.

The fourth shot is interesting, only because it doesn't burn, and because Rachel decides to go grind on some guy.

The fifth shot is hot, and liquidy, whatever that means.

The sixth shot is only worth it because that's when they lose Kurt. He heads off in the direction of some gay guy, and Santana shrugs, her eyes a little glazed.

The seventh shot actually tastes _good_ and maybe it's because she's starting to feel super woozy, maybe it's because it's always been delicious, Quinn doesn't know.

The eighth shot is almost as bad as the first and she almost throws it up, but she keeps it down and Santana grins at her like she's the only person in the world that matters.

The ninth shot is easy, peasy, lemon squeezy.

The tenth shot she doesn't remember, but Santana and Kurt's dance friend...guy says it happened, so Quinn takes their word.

The eleventh shot is shared with Rachel, but Quinn counts it because when Rachel goes to "hot box but with liquor" into Quinn's mouth, she basically transfers the whole shot. It's gross, but Quinn is too gone to care.

The twelfth shot is only hard because she can't focus on anything other than Santana's eyes.

Santana leans over the table then, all cleavage and temptation and smooth skin, her eyes never leaving Quinn's. "You wanna dance?" Santana pretty much shouts, because the place is literally vibrating with how loud it is.

Quinn honestly can't think of any reason to say no. So she doesn't.

* * *

_Oh yeah they tell me I'm a bad boy,_

_All the ladies look at me and act coy_

Quinn felt the bass beat take over the club and let her head start nodding along, getting a finer sense of the rhythm. She felt Santana grab her hand as she led Quinn through the crowds of people. Quinn felt hot, but she didn't let go. The important thing was that she didn't let go.

_I just like to put my hands up in the air_

_I want that girl dancing over there_

Quinn felt Santana stop before she saw her, and automatically Quinn started swaying her hips back in forth. It's what they call basic moves in her dance classes, and they are basic, but they were also easy to change if necessary.

_Shaking her ass from the left to the right_

_Moving it round just the way that I like_

Quinn noticed that Santana started swaying her hips, too, her upper body moving with her lower half. It makes sense that even while dancing they'd compliment each other and Santana doesn't object when Quinn grabs her hips, pulling her closer to Quinn. Santana laughs and wraps her arms around Quinn's shoulders, their bodies barely touching.

_I wanna see you move like a movie on flight_

_She got it how I want it and I want it all night_

Quinn doesn't know how long they're dancing that long before Santana turns, and that's the moment where everything is undone. Santana turns her body in Quinn's arms until her ass is pressed into Quinn's pelvis. Quinn's hands are still gripping Santana's waist, even though Santana was now gyrating into Quinn's pelvis. Quinn almost groaned, but she ignored it, her body eagerly responding to Santana's.

_Look at her go on the dance floor_

_She's amazing on the dance floor_

Santana continued to grind obsessively against Quinn, leaving her little room to stop or do anything but respond. Maybe it was the liquor that possessed Santana to grab the back of Quinn's head with her hand, her other hand gripping Quinn's thigh, but either way, it was awfully delicious.

They were close, _too_ close, and Quinn knew it was wrong. Santana was with Brittany, this was crossing boundaries and Quinn should stop it. But then Santana's ass bumped into her pelvis again, and all Quinn could do was kiss the back of Santana's neck, as if she was staking a claim on something that wasn't hers.

_When she moves, girl, I want more_

_Keep it going, girl, like I got an encore_

_You got me sayin'_

Santana turns back around in Quinn's arms, her face red and her eyes hooded and Quinn decides (maybe it's the liquor that gives her false courage, or false bravado) that she's going to go for it. Santana's looking at her lips, anyway, and it just makes sense.

_Go little bad girl, little bad girl _

Quinn grabs Santana's ass and pulls her closer, her hands squeezing, and Santana groaning in response.

_Go little bad girl, little bad girl_

Santana leans in and it's the permission that Quinn's needed, it's the excuse she's been waiting for.

_Go little bad girl, little bad girl_

Her body tenses, and she leans in, because this is the only place she was ever meant to go.

Forward.

_Go little bad girl (let's go)_

Later, Santana will say she didn't know it was coming, that she had no idea what was about to happen. But when Quinn leans in, Santana closes her eyes, and it's in this moment that Quinn knows Santana expected this.

_Go little bad girl (let's go)_

Quinn grazed Santana's lips softly at first, giving Santana enough time to back out. Santana didn't pull away, so Quinn pulled in with much more force. She pressed her lips against Santana's and noted that they were squishy right now, squishier than her Professor's.

It took a moment for Santana to respond. She tilted her head and opened her mouth as Santana swiped a tongue across her bottom lip. The kiss was softer than Santana's ever been and Quinn nips at Santana's tongue because she expected more. Santana seems to catch the hint because this time when Santana pushes her tongue into Quinn's mouth, it's without warning.

It's intrusive, almost, as Santana pushes and prods every part of Quinn's mouth as Quinn tries to catch her breath. She wants to taste Santana, too, but Santana won't let her, and Santana's dominance makes heat rush to Quinn's lower half.

Quinn squeezes Santana's ass again and rams her pelvis into Santana's, causing Santana to gasp. Quinn uses this advantage to pull her mouth away and come back with more force. She bites Santana's lip harshly before shoving her tongue into Santana's mouth. Santana groans and it's a pleasing sound to hear, but Quinn is too focused on the fact that Santana tastes like Banana's and Tequila.

Santana slips her hand underneath Quinn's jacket and places her hand over Quinn's breast, and it's too much in a time that's been too little, but Quinn let's it happen, anyway. Santana moves her lips against Quinn's with such force that Quinn feels like Santana is trying to break her.

It's sad, because Quinn is almost certain that she already has.

_Go little bad girl_

* * *

Kurt ruins the moment, but Quinn is fairly certain he's unaware of the moment he just ruined. Santana pulls away from her faster than Quinn could say Sue Sylvester and it makes her heart hurt. Kurt has run up to Quinn and Santana and he's crying about how the guy he was dancing with kissed him, and how that's cheating and how he just wants to go home and call Blaine.

She doesn't have the ability to care right now, not really, but she pretends, because that's what friends are supposed to do.

* * *

It's not until later when Quinn is certain that everyone else is asleep that she pulls out her phone and loads up Google. It's been bugging her since the drunken kiss earlier, and it's only now that she has the courage to finally do it.

Maybe it's because it's dark, maybe it's because she's certain nobody can see her, or maybe it's because everyone's passed out and Quinn is certain that nobody will judge her. Either way, Quinn feels comfortable enough to go for it, so she does

She types: _how do you know if you're a lesbian? _

And then she waits.


	5. Babe, I know That It's Your Soul

_A/N: Short update because the next one will be massive. Um, I really enjoy all of your reviews, honestly it encourages me to keep going. Sometimes I need some encouragement. So, please read and review and let me know what you like/dislike, and if this sucks. That would be majorly helpful. I LOVE YOU ALL, YA HEAR?_

* * *

**Babe, I know That It's Your Soul But Could You Bottle It Up?**

Quinn Fabray has always been fairly good at pretending.

When she was little, she had created a whole network of friends that never stepped away from imaginary. The mind is a powerful thing, it let's you convince yourself that something doesn't exist, that it didn't happen.

It let's you believe in the _otherwise_ of life, in the impossible.

Unfortunately, Quinn's mind seemed equipped at only remembering the things she didn't want to. She remembers the accident, for starters. She remembers screeching tires and burnt rubber. She can almost smell it now; the smell of death, the smell of desperation. She remembers crying as her car flipped over and thinking that if God chose to save her, she'd do everything right this time.

What a lie that was.

So, yes, she remembers the accident, even though she told Santana and Rachel otherwise. She remembers other things, too. Like how her mother was too drunk to pick her up from school, Cheerios, or any other activity that Quinn took an interest in. How her mother only valued input when she was subdued by her vices.

She remembers weird things, too. Like how her uncle John's touch would linger a little too long when she was young and how it barely exists now that she's grown. She remembers her father's Sunday speeches, even though they were given to an empty room. She remembers things like that and she wonders how even her mind could be this useless to her.

Because even though it's early, even though she's probably still drunk, she remembers the kiss clearly. So clearly that her lips burn, her skin burns, her mind _burns_.

It makes sense now after all these years, that once Santana warmed up her heart, she'd burn everything else, too.

* * *

She wakes up a few hours after falling asleep. The sun is barely starting to crack in through Santana's blinds, and Quinn is awake. Years of Cheerio practice and having perfectionists as parents has taught her that she should never be too comfortable, so her body relies on the lowest amount of sleep possible to get by.

It sucks, but Quinn has always been this type of girl, the one that can never truly settle, so it is what it is. She takes what she needs, and she's never acted otherwise.

Last night was living proof of that.

Quinn knows she was drunk, she knows that she should just blame it all on poor decisions and YOLO, but the reality of the situation is that she remembers. She remembers the way Santana felt, the way she tasted, and the way she moved.

Most of all, Quinn remembers how she herself didn't hesitate in initiating contact with Santana.

It goes to show just how much she's changed, and maybe how much she's grown, because she doesn't really care that she's no longer the good Christian daughter she used to be.

The problem with that, though, is that Quinn has no idea who she is anymore.

People joke about identity all the time, they say that society needs guidelines and rules to define them. Quinn doesn't think it's funny, she thinks it's true.

She's not the curious girl; that's Brittany. She's not gay, because...well, because she doesn't even know if this thing with Santana is actually a _thing_. Or if she's just gay for Santana. Not that she is gay, anyway.

Bringing on another identity or trying to create a whole new Quinn, is terrifying because she barely survived when she left Lucy behind. Quinn doesn't know if she'll make it through another transformation. She doesn't-

"Put your mind to sleep, Q." Santana grumbles into her pillow, her voice rumbling against Quinn's back. She's still wearing her leopard dress from the night before, and Quinn is still in her blue sexy dress. They were both too exhausted and frustrated and caught up to bother with changing. Santana had fallen asleep quickly, one arm spooning Quinn as Santana hugged her from behind

Quinn didn't object to sharing a bed with Santana when Santana had gestured at it because, well, it's _Santana_. Whether or not they were...doing something, she would always be Santana, and Quinn's rightful place would always be right next to her.

"It is asleep," Quinn answers dumbly, because really, if it was asleep she'd be silent.

Santana grumbles and her lips burn into Quinn's skin. "I can hear you thinking from here, it's distracting."

Quinn sighed, defeated. "It's morning."

"It's five am."

Quinn laughed. "That's morning time, crazy."

Santana rubbed her face against Quinn's shoulder and Quinn was struck with the thought of future mornings being spent like this. She shut them down as quickly as they came, this was not the time for nonsense.

"Q, go to sleep. I can't argue with you when it's still night time."

Quinn laughed again. "S, it's morning!"

Quinn had half a mind to ask Santana if she was still drunk, but it turns out she didn't need to. It was mere seconds before Santana's actions told her.

Santana kissed Quinn's shoulder and Quinn froze. "Go to sleep."

"San-" Quinn stopped talking when Santana kissed her shoulder again, except this time her lips lingered.

Quinn shuddered when she felt Santana's tongue sweep against her shoulder. "Go to sleep."

Quinn sighed. It sucked getting into fights with people who always win, so Quinn relented before Santana did something Quinn couldn't ignore.

She did the only thing she could do. She went to sleep.

* * *

Quinn woke up a few hours later, her head pounding and her eyes blurry. She was cold, and it hit her that Santana wasn't near her anymore. The bed was cold and empty, and that's what caused Quinn to roll out of Santana's bed at 10:32 in the morning.

Well, that _and_ the smell of pancakes.

She ran her hand through her hair and avoided her reflection in Santana's mirror as she passed it. She was pretty sure she looked like a damn fine mess, and she wasn't quite willing to see something other than perfection. What? The Fabray way is buried deep.

She pushed open Santana's door and padded over towards the kitchen, her body following her nose. She saw Santana in an apron and Rachel sitting at their table next to Kurt (who's head was laying on the table) and Quinn almost grinned at the scene. Instead, she froze when she noticed a blonde dancing next to Santana, a spatula in her hand and a grin on her face.

_Brittany._

Quinn felt her stomach churn in worry, but she continued on, anyway. She placed a perfectly perfect smile on her face as she headed towards Rachel. She pulled out the chair on Rachel's other side, effectively making her presence known, and Kurt raised his head to give her a mumble of acknowledgement.

Rachel looked at her and glared. "Wow, even in the morning you look perfect."

Quinn raised her eyebrows in response. That was certainly new. Rachel was one for compliments, but never ones like that. "Thank you?"

Santana turned away from Brittany, a laugh spilling out of her lips. "Quinn! Three with a side of syrup, if I'm not mistaken?"

Quinn nodded, her mind trying to wrap around the fact that Brittany was here in the flesh. She wasn't certain what was going on, not really, but she was certain that she didn't understand how Santana could just act like nothing happened.

Brittany grinned as she twirled over to Quinn, her arms pulling Quinn into an awkward hug. "The people in my crew said that hugs heal all wounds, so let me hug you for ten minutes, okay? That way you'll never get broken again."

Quinn felt her heart swell at Brittany's childish gesture. Her eyes caught Santana's and Santana sent her a watery smile. One that said, "She's something, huh?" instead of "You're my something."

Quinn couldn't handle it so she gently pushed Brittany away. She squeezed Brittany's shoulder as if that would convey how sorry she was that she just couldn't do this right now. In all honesty, Brittany didn't seem that phased by it, and Quinn decided that was part of her charm.

"When did you get in, B?" Quinn asked, her mind trying to focus on something other than the memory of last night.

Brittany shrugged, her head twisted up in thought. "Like six?"

Quinn's eyes widened in surprise. "In the am?"

"Yes, silly, six pm wouldn't be possible...unless I time traveled?" Brittany looked off in confusion.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Wait, how come you didn't wake us?"

Brittany turned her attention back to Quinn. Her eyes were crystal clear and Quinn found herself wondering for the millionth time what Santana found so irresistible. Brittany smiled sweetly. "You and Santana looked cute, so I let you guys get your drunken beauty sleep."

Quinn sighed. It was something else that Brittany didn't consider her a threat, she thought Santana was completely _hers_, and that thought alone made Quinn's stomach twist violently. She had all of Brittany's unwavering trust, and she honestly didn't deserve it.

"Well, I'm glad you're back." Quinn muttered half-convincingly.

Brittany clapped enthusiastically. "Me too! Now we can _really_ party."

Kurt groaned in response and Santana laughed. Rachel sunk lower in her seat, her eyes looking worried. Quinn stayed silent though, because she was right.

Now they could _really_ party.

* * *

Throughout all of breakfast Quinn kept trying to grab Santana's attention, just so the brunette could send Quinn some kind of mental signal that she wasn't going crazy, that this wasn't all in her head. She needed real, physical proof that last night had actually happened, of what would have happened if Kurt hadn't interrupted.

She wasn't ready to think about what it meant, not really, because the best things in life are ignored. No, she just needed validation that she wasn't imagining things anymore, that there was something else entirely happening in her friendship with Santana.

However, Santana seemed completely intent on giving Quinn nothing. It was such a drastic change from last night that Quinn felt like she was going insane. During breakfast Santana chose to sit next to Brittany, when Quinn tried to help clean up the dishes Santana had pushed her towards the living room.

When Quinn had followed Santana into her bedroom, Santana had feigned stomach cramps and proceeded to rush into the bathroom. It was childish, they were childish, and Quinn was tired of it. So when Santana walked into the restroom again, Quinn took it as her chance. She left Brittany with Rachel and Kurt (who were both still mildly interactive, they must have gotten extremely wasted).

Santana closed the door behind her and Quinn stuck her hand out to catch it before it closed. Santana turned around confused, her hand over her heart and the other on her hip. "What the hell, Q?"

Quinn ignored Santana's...everything, and quickly locked the door. She turned around and made sure that she was positioned directly in front of the door. It might seem like she was trapping Santana but, well, she was trapping her.

"Are we ever going to talk about this?"

Santana hunched forward, her shoulders sagging. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Quinn fumed. "Seriously? You're going to pretend like you didn't shove your tongue in my mouth last night?"

Santana leaped forward, her hand covering Quinn's mouth in the process. "What the fuck?! Are you crazy? Brittany's right outside."

Quinn yanked Santana's hand off of her mouth. Santana had changed into sweatpants and a tank top, but it didn't matter because she was still beautiful, and it made Quinn angrier. "So that's how it goes, huh? Once Brittany's around I'm automatically in second place."

Santana's eyes softened. "Quinn, it isn't like that and you know it."

"No, I don't know." Quinn snapped, her voice edging towards frustrated.

"What do you want me to say?"

Quinn shoved Santana back, her senses feeling invaded along with everything else. "I want you to say _something_ about last night, I want you to acknowledge _me._"

Santana's nostrils flared, her eyes hardened along with her words. "Please, like I've ever done anything but acknowledge you. What, you go to Yale and suddenly you feel like everything needs to be about you all the time?"

Quinn reared back, her mind trying to find purchase in this argument, but it was quickly steering in another direction. "What the _fuck_ does that mean?"

Santana shook her head, a bit of her fight leaving her along with her will. "It means that this conversation is pointless, Q, because at the end of the day I'll still be in New York and you'll still be in New Haven."

"Is that what this is about? You're upset that I didn't come with you? I'm two hours away!"

Quinn heard a knock on the door along with a voice filter through. "Guys?" Rachel started hesitantly, "are you okay?"

Santana yelled "go away, hobbit" at the same time that Quinn tossed over her shoulder "not right now, Rachel".

"Uh...okay, gotcha." Rachel said before they hear her footsteps retreating.

Santana turned back towards Quinn. "Brittany came here for me and you couldn't even take a chance on anything outside of that stupid Ivy League school."

"Wow, Brittany comparisons _again_, how original."

"You know what Quinn?" Santana asked, her voice lower and her eyes stoney. "You wanna know what that kiss meant? It meant _nothing_ because that's what I do. I get drunk and I make out with people. It doesn't matter because it never does, it's unimportant, it's lips to warm mine. So get over yourself."

Quinn wanted to mention the kiss when they had gotten back to the apartment, the kisses on her shoulder, but her insides were fuming and just like all things between them, this moment blew up.

"Fuck you, Santana."

Quinn turned around and unlocked the door. She marched into Santana's room, ignoring the curious glances from the people in the living room. She grabbed her purse, ignoring her duffel bag and cane that were sitting on Santana's floor.

She grabbed her heels and slipped them on, her feet automatically protested but Quinn carried on anyway, since that's what she's always been good at. Quinn rushed out of the room and made a beeline for the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" Santana shouted, concern floating through her voice.

Quinn hesitated, her head turning over her shoulder.

"Away."

* * *

Her train ride is abominable because everyone won't stop staring at her. It's clear that all of the men want her and that all of the women want to be her, and Quinn almost laughs. All those years of wishing she could stop being invisible were in vain, because now she just wishes she could disappear again.

She ignores her cell phone and the fact that Santana's name has popped up more than once. Sure, it wasn't their worst fight because they've done and said a lot worse to one another. the issue here was their lack of communication, whenever Quinn was ready, Santana wasn't. And vice-versa. She couldn't handle it, not when her emotions and hormones were on edge.

She texts Sadie and asks the girl if she could come meet her so she wouldn't have to walk alone dressed like this. Quinn understood if Sadie said no, after all, they weren't really friends. Comrades at most. Quinn almost laughed when she realized that's how her friendship with Santana started.

Her phone buzzes again and this time Sadie's name flashes on the screen, so Quinn grabs it and scrambles to get the text open.

_Okay._

It's all she's ever wanted-and needed-to hear, and Quinn can't stop the tears that start falling.

* * *

Quinn quickly rushes off the train, completely intent on leaving everything behind her-literally. She caught Sadie's eye when she exited and she walked over towards her roommate. Sadie was in sweatpants, her eyes were swollen, and her red hair was tossed carelessly in the worst ponytail Quinn has ever seen.

Sadie smiles at her and she just looks so awful that Quinn has to say something, anything, because this girl came outside looking like this for Quinn. Maybe they are friends, maybe Quinn needed to learn to stop underestimating people.

She's not good with words, not right now, so she settles on honesty since it's the only thing she has in this moment. "You look like how I feel."

Sadie looked relieved. She smiled encouragingly at Quinn. "Oh my God, did you drink too many margaritas, also?"

"No?" Quinn answered, confused.

Sadie's smile fell. "Oh."

Quinn laughed and then proceeded to hug her roommate and sometime friend because, really, _college kids sometimes._

* * *

The next few days pass uneventfully.

Quinn ignores Santana's efforts, instead she turns into her Professor's. It hits her now how disgusting he is with his practiced come ons and his overly cologne smelling sweaters. But, it's what she has right now, and Quinn is the type of girl who takes what she can.

He's gross and she hates herself, but at the same time she feels satisfied. Like, she's finally hitting Santana where it hurts. It's fucked up, but then again, it's _Quinn. _She's never pretended to be otherwise.

She's in her dorm reading on Wednesday night when Sadie comes bursting through the door, her eyes wild and her hands on her cell phone.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asks tentatively.

Sadie looks at Quinn in irritation before thrusting her phone into Quinn's hands. "Fucking crazy ninja stalker."

Quinn scrunched up her eyes in confusion. "What?"

"Just answer the damn phone before my body goes missing, okay? I'm going to go buy a fucking margarita."

Quinn laughed. "I'm beginning to think you have a problem"

Sadie flipped her off as she opened their dorm door to leave. "Fuck you."

"Make good choices!" Quinn called out, her voice carrying down the hall. It took a moment for her to remember that there was a phone in her hand, but when she did, she placed it to her ear hesitantly. "Hello?"

"Are you gonna be mad at me forever?" Santana's voiced filtered through, and Quinn rolled her eyes. Of course Santana got Sadie's number.

"How did you get this number?"

"I have my ways, now answer the fucking question."

Quinn sighed. "No, not forever. Never forever."

Santana let out a deep breath. "I don't want things to be awkward, Q."

"Things are not awkward." Quinn defended, because they weren't.

"Yeah, they are, and I wanted to talk about it because I hate awkwardness, you know that. But you won't speak to me because you're mad at me. I get it, I was a dick, but come on...this isn't like us."

Quinn ignored the majority of Santana's statement and chose to answer in another direction. "I'm not mad at you."

"Yes, you are." Santana responded matter-of-factly.

Quinn rolled her eyes, of course everything between them had to be an argument. Even the discussion about a previous argument. "No, I'm irritated with you because I'm a girl and you hurt this thing I have called _feelings_. You know, the thing that most people are born with? But in a few days I'll get over it, just like I always do."

Santana huffed, Quinn obviously hit a button and she cheered silently for her accomplishment. "Yeah, well, I'm irritated with you, too."

Quinn shook her head in confusion. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Why?" Quinn asked, genuinely confused.

"Because I'm always irritated with you, Quinn. When you're not pissing me off or being cute, you're just irritating. You get under my skin, you make me want to change and be better and try harder. You make me rethink the majority of my decisions, and you make me care. You fucking...god, you make me hate you and love you at the same damn time, and I just end up hating myself because I have no idea how that's fucking possible."

It's the closest to an apology that Quinn is going to get, at least right now. Santana wasn't known for her words, but as her best friend, Quinn knew that this was as good as it was going to get right now and she needed to take it. Because at least Santana is _trying._

They would have to talk about everything at some point, she knew, but she was willing to prolong it for as long as she could. Maybe that's what being an adult was, knowing there were things you needed to focus on, but choosing what timing is appropriate. When you're a teenager, you can be rash, you can make decisions and pretend there's no mistake. But she's a little bit older and maybe a little bit wiser now, there are more factors and more futures involved now, and she couldn't be rash. Not today.

Quinn licked her lips, her body already defeated. "Sooo," she drawled. "Truce?"

Santana snorted into the phone. Her response was as Santana-like as possible and it warmed Quinn's heart to see that Santana hasn't changed, not really, even if it sometimes seems otherwise.

"I thought you'd never ask."


	6. I Don't Wanna Miss You Like This

_A/N: Wow, you guys are amazing! Thank you for all of the reviews, they mean everything and helped me get through this beast a lot quicker. Now you know the secret, more reviews and more chapters ;). Just kidding, it's just nice to know that I don't suck (because I do feel like I do, sometimes). This chapter was a beast, but an easy one, so let me know if you all like it, yeah? SHOUT OUTS: I know a couple of you commented that you wouldn't let your best friend get away with treating you like Santana is treating Quinn, and I do agree to an extent. I have a friend who I'm very close to, who, well, we've done a lot of these things. It seems like it'd be easier to turn away your best friend when they treat you like crap, but honestly, it's hard, especially when romantic feelings are involved. Anyway, the point is that I'm currently going through something like this and I hope I'm giving it justice. So please let me know, yes?_

* * *

**I Don't Wanna Miss You Like This. I Don't Wanna Need You This Way**

**(Come Back, Be Here)**

"_Now something so sad has hold of us that the breath leaves and we can't even cry."_

_-Charles Bukowski_

Quinn Fabray was certainly acting like a different person these days.

It's hard to have your whole life figured out at eighteen, you know. It's hard to know who you are and who you're not when you've never even really been sure. She remembers Lucy and she knows Quinn. She knows the differences and how she can't really go back because she's been Quinn for far too long now. The past is the past, all she has is the present, and Quinn is at her best when she's a hybrid of the two. It's just hard, to figure out who that person was, who she _is_ now.

Quinn knows what she's doing...or what she did with Santana is wrong logistically, because from where everyone else stands, Santana is with Brittany. But the problem with that is that people can't see things clearly. They don't see the history between Santana and Quinn, they only see relationship statuses. So, yes, logistically and morally Quinn had done the wrong thing, even on the friendship level. However, from where Quinn stood, kissing Santana could never truly be a mistake because to Quinn, Santana had been and will always be hers first.

It's a selfish way to think, but hey, she's been this way from the beginning. A moment hasn't passed where Quinn has pretended to be someone who wasn't selfish beyond control.

Yes; Santana loves Quinn. And yes; Santana's in love with Brittany. As far as pretenses and labels go, those things are both true.

The thing of it is, maybe it's not about cheating on Brittany or being unfaithful or even loving Quinn more, maybe it's about not being able to let go. Maybe it's about being eighteen and making poor choices because you don't want to lose what you have and you don't want to be alone.

Maybe it's about conceding and taking less than what you deserve because you don't know what else you can do. Maybe it's about being afraid because change is the only constant in life, and sometimes it just consistently takes until you don't recognize who or what you are anymore.

Maybe it's about loving each other and not wanting things to change, because even though you're an adult now, your wants are still childish and you want everything to always be the same.

Growing up is _hard_ and Quinn understands now how her mother picked alcohol instead of dealing with the life she chose to have. Sometimes you make the wrong decisions and it sucks, yes, but it doesn't make you a terrible person, it doesn't make Quinn and Santana terrible people. Sometimes, even though she's an adult, Quinn isn't certain which choice is the right one, so she often picks the easiest because she's afraid someone will point out how she made the wrong choice, how she made a mistake.

It's what her mother did, what her father raised her to do, and it's funny that the Fabray apple will clearly never fall very far from the tree. It's funny and it changes nothing, so Quinn does what she's always done, she picks the easy option and goes on like nothing happened during Kurt's birthday weekend.

It's funny that they're both lying to themselves (along with everyone else). It's funny and it's true and it changes nothing.

* * *

It's two weeks after Santana and Quinn made up when Quinn decides to bail on another party just so she can stay in her room all night.

It's been six weeks since she's started this adventure at Yale, and nothing really feels great. It's just College instead of feeling like her home, so Quinn spends her days focused on her school work and her nights talking to everyone in New York. She misses them and she wonders what it'd be like if she could just transfer to NYU just so she wouldn't have to feel lonely anymore.

It's dumb and childish to feel like an outcast when Quinn clearly wasn't putting the effort in to be otherwise, but she's eighteen and that's just how she does things sometimes. It's Friday and she should be out partying but whatever, she's never really been that girl, and she's never been good at pretending to be that girl, either.

It's nearing eight and she's on the eighty-ninth level of _four pictures and one word_, when Sadie comes trumping through their dorm. Sadie is the definition of a party girl, so color Quinn surprised to be seeing her roommate at a decent hour and looking completely non-ratchet like.

Quinn smiles and turns her attention back to her game on her phone. She doesn't know why Sadie's returned so early, but it's clearly not to bond, so Quinn doesn't think she needs to be mentally present for this.

It turns out that Sadie has other plans though, because she plops down next to Quinn, a margarita in her hand and a smile on her face. Quinn can't help but wonder how Sadie has such easy access to alcohol when they're in a school that prides itself on education, but whatevs, it's not her problem.

Sadie nudges Quinn to sit up and stares at Quinn until she complies. When Quinn finally moved until she was sitting criss-cross-applesauce Sadie pulled a water bottle filled with a light green juice and handed it to Quinn. Quinn raised her eyebrows curiously and Sadie shrugged, her red hair straightened and her blue eyes twinkling.

"It's a portable margarita."

Quinn looked at Sadie in disbelief. Quinn could barely even get into a rated R movie on a regular basis, how was it that Sadie had so much access to alcohol? Sadie continued to look at Quinn again, and it was clear that Quinn wasn't going to get out of this weird staring contest until she drank some, so she opened the bottle and took a huge swig. It was warm and sour, but not disgusting, so Quinn powered through.

Sadie smiled, satisfied with Quinn's choice. "Your friend is terrifying."

Quinn rolled her eyes playfully at Sadie's comment. "Is this your way of trying to be friends with me? Because I think it's unconventional."

"No, it's my way of telling you that your friend scared the living crap out of me. I thought I was going to be kidnapped." Sadie looks so serious as her mouth wraps around the straw in her margarita that Quinn cracks a smile.

"She's really good at coming off that way. She's not that bad, not really."

Sadie ripped her mouth away from her drink, her eyes blazing. "Um, your friend got my number, my name, and my class schedule. Clearly she's a fucking CIA agent."

This time Quinn laughs because, really, Santana was always a 'go big or go home' kind of girl. "She certainly is dedicated when she wants to be."

Sadie huffed. "Clearly you're underestimating how scary she is." Sadie's eyes softened when she looked back at Quinn, however, and immediately Quinn was curious. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about." Quinn rebuffed. There wasn't, unless Sadie knew the answer to the eighty ninth level of her game.

Sadie sighed. "I want us to be friends, Quinn."

"We are."

"No," Sadie corrected, her hand wrapped around her glass as her other hand stirred her drink. "We're roommates."

"Same thing."

"Not really." Sadie looked at Quinn and gave her a soft smile. "All I'm saying is that your friend hunted down all of my personal information just so she could contact you. All of this after you come back from seeing her-mind you, crying and looking like a hot mess. That doesn't sound very friend like."

Quinn opened her mouth but nothing came out. For the first time in a long time, somebody at this school had left her speechless. She hadn't expected Sadie to pay so much attention to something that didn't involve her life. So Quinn settled for chugging the rest of what was in the bottle before answering with a, "It's complicated."

Sadie rolled her eyes. "Tell me what story isn't and I'll give you a million bucks." Sadie wrapped her mouth around her drink again and gulped down the rest, pretty much mimicking Quinn's earlier action.

"You drink a lot of margaritas, Sadie." Quinn commented. It wasn't an answer because Quinn couldn't offer that much of herself over, not yet, not until she was certain she wasn't the only person losing a secret in this conversation.

The way Sadie looked at Quinn made her heart plummet. It was a look like she just _knew_ what Quinn was doing, but she was going to continue anyway. Sadie smiled, her eyes watery and her demeanor subtle. "I just...I just really miss home. It makes things easier."

Quinn sighed, because it wasn't the admission Quinn wanted to hear, but it was more than Quinn had given. "I get it." She replies, because she does.

Sadie crossed her legs on Quinn's bed and Quinn proceeded to tell Sadie just how much Quinn gets_ it_.

* * *

The day that follows proves to be a day that starts off feeling lighter, overall.

Quinn knows that she didn't confess her soul, far from it, really. But essentially? It just feels really good to have somebody else know, especially somebody else who has no real ties to Santana and Quinn. It's nice to have an unbiased third party, it's nice to feel like Quinn isn't going crazy.

She's in such a good mood when she wakes up Saturday morning. She feels a little bit fresher and a little bit lighter, so she decides to answer one of her Professor's many text messages. He's not leaving his wife, Quinn knows. He doesn't love her or even really like her, Quinn gets that too. But he is there and she has been ignoring him for the better part of the past two weeks.

He does give her attention, even though she's repulsed when he has her meet him in his office. He smiles at Quinn like she's the only one that matters, and even though it physically disgusts her that the bulge is growing in his pants because he realistically thinks this is gonna happen, Quinn stays.

She meets him, goes to his office, and stays put as his hand caresses her cheek before reaching for her breast. She brushes off his touch quickly because even though she's there she doesn't want _that_. Her Professor looks even more interested now that Quinn's putting up a bit of a fight, and he smiles at her, all disgusting teeth and gray hair.

"Let's leave this little Christian girl act behind, huh? We all know it's...tantalizing, but you're clearly not that kind-of girl."

It doesn't matter that Quinn's never slept with him, it doesn't matter that he doesn't know anything about her past. It doesn't matter that he doesn't know how ugly she felt as Lucy or how incapable she feels as Quinn, none of it matters. Not the scars or the memories of hospital beds or the prayers she made where she promised she'd be a better girl if she could just walk and feel again. No, none of that matters, so Quinn kisses him because he's there and because he knows what he wants, and yeah, because what he wants just so happens to be her. She doesn't do anything past that though, because she finally feels like it's cheating.

But whether she feels like he's cheating or she is, she doesn't really know.

She quickly leaves his office after that, feigning a stomach problem and giving him a promise that she'll rekindle their...romance later.

It's a false promise, but almost everything Quinn has given has been false, so she doesn't feel guilty in the slightest.

* * *

She's walking away as quickly as she can to wherever she can when her phone rings. Quinn thinks it might be Sadie, she hopes it's Santana, and it turns out to be neither. It's Rachel and Quinn has to stop herself from laughing at the absurdity of it all. Rachel Berry has always had excellent timing.

"Hello?" Quinn answers when she's finally out of earshot of any early morning joggers on campus.

"Brittany and Santana are fighting," Rachel pushes like she always has, unforgiving and relentlessly even though Quinn doesn't ask for it. "It's weird, I've never seen them this into something that isn't sex.

Quinn frowns because, eww, and she repeats her her response out loud. "Eww."

Rachel laughs even though nothing about this conversation could be classified as funny. "Sorry, it's just if you see something enough times you kinda grow immune to it. Last week I caught th-"

''Rachel!" Quinn yells, stopping on the sidewalk across from their college cafe, her voice irritated and her mind blocking out mental pictures.

"Right, sorry." Rachel says for the second time before continuing on with information that Quinn didn't ask for. "Brittany's mad because Santana was such a bitch to you and she won't tell Brittany why. Santana's mad because Brittany has to go out of town again. I don't know if she's so much mad as she is jealous of her success, but who knows with that girl."

Quinn looked left and right before she lightly jogged across the street. Her mind focused on her only worry. "Is Santana okay?"

"I don't know. This is just a heads up, you might want to call her." Rachel says, and for the first time during this conversation, Quinn is actually thankful. Rachel was a diamond in the rough, she only shined occasionally. Okay, that was mean, but Quinn was still upset over Rachel's earlier statement.

"On it." Quinn answered, her hand pushing open the door to the diner. She nodded at the waitress and slid into a booth in the corner.

"Sooo," Rachel drawled, clearly intent on continuing the conversation. "Does the creepy Professor recite Shakespeare in the midst of your sexual fancies? Or is his mature prowess just too much to resist?

Quinn whipped her head back, thrown off by Rachel's statement. "Eew, Rachel, what the hell?"

"Sorry," Rachel said for the third time, sounding just as tired of saying it as Quinn was of hearing it. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around it."

"Around what?"

Rachel sighed. "How Quinn Fabray could settle for anything less than what she deserves."

Quinn froze, her eyes pausing over the menu and her heart dropping at the realization that this is what Rachel had wanted to talk about all along. "Rachel..."

"I get it, ya know? Being sad and scared because you're somewhere you've never been before and you have none of your support systems around you. I get what it's like to not have someone who loves you consistently and devotedly around to dote on you, but Quinn, you have me and I'm only two hours away. Why can't you just...let me in?" Rachel asked, exasperated. She sounded frustrated and Quinn thought that maybe she deserved to be so. In the midst of everything, Quinn often forgot about Rachel.

She swallowed, her pride and her breath, and answered. "It's hard."

"What is?"

"Remembering that I can rely on somebody other than Santana." Quinn responded honestly.

"I get she's your best friend and everything, believe me, that's why Kurt is so important to me. It's just...I feel like I've proven myself, too. I feel like I deserve more than a surface friendship with you. There's something going on and you won't tell me, and it hurts, Quinn."

"Rachel, I-" Quinn Hesitated before deciding to continue on, she had already gone this far, after all. "I wasn't important before she came along."

"What are you talking about?" Rachel asked incredulously.

Quinn released a breath and looked up in embarrassment, even though Rachel couldn't see her. "Nobody thought I mattered or saw what I was worth except Santana, and when she noticed, everyone else did. I can't-I feel like I don't matter without her, it's hard to explain, okay? But I do...I do love you, too."

Rachel was silent for a few minutes and Quinn almost believed that she had hung up. She pulled her phone away from her face to check otherwise, and pulled her phone back towards her face when it was clear that Rachel hadn't hung up.

After a few more minutes Rachel sighed. "Okay."

"What does that mean?"

"It means _okay_. For now." Rachel answered curtly.

"Okay." Quinn mimicked, relieved that this conversation was stopping, at least for now.

Rachel laughed awkwardly. "Now tell me, do boys at Yale wear sweater vests? I always pictured that to be a thing."

Quinn chuckled and smiled at the waitress as she headed towards Quinn, completely grateful that Rachel was always great at being _Rachel_.

* * *

After a cup of coffee and a pie-that she ate at least once a week when she was alone because, really, she was still insecure about her figure sometimes- Quinn finally felt secure enough to call Santana. It wasn't that she couldn't speak to her best friend, it was just that things were weird between them sometimes. She felt nervous in a way she never had before, and maybe that was the real sign that change was coming, whether she wanted it to or not.

After she finished her third cup of coffee Quinn picked up her phone, her heart filled with intent and her body brave. Or maybe that was the coffee, who knows.

It takes two rings for Santana to pick up and even less for Quinn to remember just how much she loves her best friend.

"What's up, Fabray?" Santana's casual voice filters through Quinn's receiver and Quinn can't help the smile that possess her face, not even if she tried.

"Nothing much, just wanted to see how you were." Quinn half-lied, everything was filled with half-lies and half-truths these days, so maybe it didn't matter why Quinn called, as long as she did.

Santana sounded pleased when she cleared her throat, and Quinn was left to wonder how that was even possible. "Well, I just found a guy who sells Girl Scouts cookies all year round, so I'm pretty great. I'll be able to get my snacks on for a twenty-four-seven, three-hundred-and-sixty-five-day, kind-of basis."

Quinn let's a laugh leave her mouth, her laugh falling out of her mouth and her head falling over her heart. "You have such a problem."

"Hey, I can't turn away from a girl scout, they're like catnip." Santana states like it's the most obvious fact in the world instead of wildly inappropriate.

"That sounds terrible out loud." Quinn answers, because it really sounds terrible.

Santana laughs, her voice low and happy and it's hard to remember why Quinn shouldn't love her in times like this. It's hard to remember that there's anything unlovable about Santana. "It does, huh? Anyway, you getting your kicks over there in the Capital of Squaresville?"

"How is it in artist central?" Quinn counters. Santana is oddly quiet about her days at NYU. From what Quinn's heard from Kurt, Santana's thriving, but not enough to stand out in the crowd of talented people.

"Oh, you know," Santana says, like Quinn really does know. "I'm surviving."

"I heard about your fight with Brittany." Quinn says, completely changing the subject. The conversation was getting too off subject and if Quinn didn't stop herself, she would have let herself get carried away with and by Santana.

Santana sighed in irritation, her mood shifting quickly. "Fucking Berry, she's got the mouth of a gossiping Queen."

"_Santana_." Quinn chastised.

"It's nothing, okay? It's no big deal. We'll work through it, we always do."

Quinn wanted to say, 'what about us? will we work through _this_?' but it didn't seem like the appropriate time for that conversation. At least, not yet. So she settled on the obvious because it was rare that she got to do so with Santana, at least these days.

"I love you."

Santana laughs like she's saying 'of course', as if Quinn's love is as obvious as the sun is bright. "Don't be a dick, I love you, too."

It shouldn't make her feel like she's floating because Santana really is stating an obvious fact, but floating is what Quinn feels like, nonetheless. She wonders distractedly if she'd make a pretty cloud, and if Santana would make a prettier cloud when she's next to Quinn, and if they'd just be able to float around together all day without ever separating.

God, she sounds like Brittany. How the times have clearly changed.

* * *

After another hour of pointless discussion, Quinn has to hang up because she's probably loitering at this point. She pays her tab and heads back to her dorm. It's past early afternoon at this point, it's nearly four and Quinn has decided to just retire early...like always.

She could always read, too, that's always up for discussion.

She's pushing back through her dorm door away from the cold and into the warmth of her room when her phone vibrates. She's hoping it isn't her Professor when she's placing down her bag, she waves to Sadie (who's listening to her Ipod and jumping on her bed) before pulling her phone out of her pocket.

_**Santana: **__I need you to motivate me..._

_**Santana:**_ _I need to clean my room and I haven't really gotten up all day ughhh_

Quinn smiled at her best friends antics before quickly shooting her a reply. _How about you make me drinks that I can't really have and give them to your roommates as a kind gesture...is that motivating?_

Her phone vibrates quickly after she sends her text so Quinn ignores the frown on Sadie's face and sits down, all of her attention on Santana's words.

_**Santana: **__Levitate to me._

_**Santana: **__I'd much rather make you things._

She's smiling and completely ready to respond when Sadie yanks her phone out of her hands. Quinn looked up in outrage. "What the hell, Sadie?"

Sadie looked at Quinn's messages clearly disappointed. "God, with that smile you'd think you were at least getting your sexting on."

Quinn scrunched up her nose in disgust. "Don't be crass."

Sadie rolled her eyes. "It ain't crass if it's honest."

"Actually, I think it's still crass." Quinn protested. "Give me back my phone."

Sadie shook her head. "No can do, Quinny. You're not spending tonight curled in a ball and waiting for this girls messages like some little helpless puppy. Tonight you're getting yours. You're coming with me to this fraternity party that's happening, I heard about it from my lab partner."

"I don't want to."

Sadie shrugged in defiance. "I don't care. I can't let you stay in again, Quinn. I can't let you wait on this girl as if she's the sun and you're meant to orbit around her."

Quinn looked away in defeat. "Why?" She asked meekly.

Sadie's seemed to soften when Quinn did. "Look, I know you're caught up in this girl of yours, but you need to do you, Quinn. Maybe you are gay-I'm not saying you're gay, calm down! Look, I'm just saying that maybe it's just one of those fucking epic loves, like in The Vow or like Ross and Rachel from Friends-

"Sadie." Quinn warned.

Sadie waved her hand dismissively. "Right, right. Anyway, either way you need to get out there. You can't stay in here forever, Quinn. You need to experience things, you need to live a life away from her."

"But-"

"No buts," Sadie pushed on, completely set on bringing Quinn with her. "We're doing this, because you're my friend and I'm yours and it's fucking Saturday. You're going to go out and you're going to look hot and you're going to fucking experiment, and maybe live a little in the process. Live free and die young, ya know?"

Quinn sighed, already knowing that she was going to go no matter what happened. "That sounds like a terrible motto."

"Probably, I read it off of some guys bumper last week."

* * *

It took four hours for Sadie to get Quinn to the 'appropriate level of hotness'. In between that time, Sadie held on to Quinn's phone, only releasing it when Quinn was ready and had already had three 'pre-funk' shots. By the time Quinn had gotten her phone back, she already had six text messages, five from Santana and one from Rachel. She didn't have time to respond though because Sadie grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door. Quinn tossed her phone into her purse with the mindset that she'd respond later.

After all, Santana was the most important thing tonight. She was just doing this for Sadie.

* * *

It turns out the part was only a few blocks away at one of the Fraternity houses, which she was thankful for, and it was an 'invite only' sort of thing. Which was really just code for, 'if you're cute enough we'll let you in'. It should have boosted her confidence when they let her and Sadie in without more than a glance, but it just made her feel rated and weighted.

The party was loud and packed and it took all of Quinn's strength to not run out of the place screaming. Sadie had had a point earlier when she had told Quinn she needed to get out, because honestly, Quinn needed to see a world that wasn't Santana. She needed to kiss someone else and taste someone else, just to make sure that she wasn't just having a crazy attack, that she wasn't gay or in love or whatever.

She was beyond nervous, so when Sadie handed her a cup full of alcohol, Quinn drank it in three minutes flat. She repeated the process with the second, third, fourth, and fifth cups that Sadie gave her, until Quinn's head and body finally felt as fuzzy as her heart.

Quinn Fabray under the influence was certainly a sight to see. She was bolder where she was usually quaint, and she was sexy where she was usually shy. It took all of five drinks to get Quinn on a dance floor and all of five drinks to have her let this frat boy grind on her. Her kept trying to put his hands on her hips, but Quinn kept shoving his hands away. She wasn't that drunk, not yet.

The boy was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts and Quinn wanted to roll her eyes and his lack of appearance. Quinn was in a black miniskirt that Sadie had shoved her in and a bright sleeveless top that was once Santana's. Her heels were at least six inches, and black, and her hair was down in it's lovely glory. He was nowhere near her standards, and yet, he seemed to think he had enough sexual prowess to look at her and mouth, "you're so pretty."

This time Quinn actually did roll her eyes because, men sometimes, they were so unoriginal. "Thank you."

"Can I-can I kiss you?" The boy asked, looking as if he had a chance.

Quinn wanted to say no, she really did. She wanted to tell the boy about Lima and friendships and how she didn't understand why green meant go when it was clearly just a color, but instead she nodded her head 'yes'. It's a tricky thing, living, because Quinn knew what she wanted to do (as of right now, not in the future) and yet she let herself be guided by Sadie's words instead of her wants. Who's to say that Sadie's even right, anyway? Maybe she is, maybe she isn't, maybe Quinn was always meant to be with Santana but never really be with her, maybe she was meant to always be someone's second choice. Her parents second child, Santana's second love, Rachel's second best friend. Maybe that's what everything was turning towards.

Maybe life was just about acting, maybe she could just pretend for a moment that this is okay. So Quinn didn't retreat her lips when the boy pushed his face towards hers, instead she stood still and let his tongue slide past her lips, ignoring the cheers from the boys around her.

The boy seemed to grow in confidence, but it was to no avail because his kissing was absolutely horrendous. He was too much when he should have only been a little, he used force when he should have been soft, he sucked and spit when Quinn just needed him to pull away. She finally had her chance when he bit her tongue on accident. She pulled away, an awful expression on her face.

The boy looked breathless. "That was-"

"Horrendous." Quinn cut off, her hand wiping across her mouth.

"What?" The boy said, shock creeping into his features.

Quinn leaned into him, the liquor finally starting to take effect, she shouted unnecessarily because for some reason, she couldn't control her volume. "You're a terrible kisser, whoever told you otherwise is a liar."

"But-but-" The boy sputtered, his friends roaring in laughter around him.

Quinn patted him on the shoulder as she pushed away, she was intent on finding her way out of the dance floor/living room. "This is probably never going to happen again, so relish it. I'm gonna go grab another fruity drink."

She pushed and shoved her way into the kitchen. Her eyes searched for Sadie and found nothing, so Quinn just shrugged and grabbed another beverage. If she was going to act fuzzy then she was going to have to be fuzzy. She was halfway done with her drink when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Quinn turned around expecting to see Sadie and was instead met with a girl. The girl had black hair, her bangs cut over her eyes. She had an eyebrow ring, her eyes blue and covered in black eyeliner. She was wearing a leather jacket, a red tank top, black jeans, and black knee-high boots. She was clearly beautiful in a way that Quinn never could be, and Quinn felt jealous. This girl had the kind of spunk that Santana would be attracted to, and Quinn hated her for it.

"Yes?" She asked, her body language pressing towards annoyed.

The girl raised her eyebrows at Quinn's tone and grinned. "I'm Sammy."

"I didn't ask for your name."

Sammy laughed. "You really are very pretty."

Quinn rolled her eyes and finished the rest of her drink. She grabbed another drink and glared at Sammy. "You sound just like every other boy at this party, how original."

Sammy grabbed Quinn's arm, preventing her from taking a sip. "You really are quite the bitch, as well, and to be honest, that's more appealing than you're beauty."

"Did you spend all night thinking that up?" Quinn snarked, yanking her arm out of Sammy's grasp and pushing the cup to her mouth.

Sammy shrugged, the spitting image of careless. "More like thirty minutes."

"And why would you do that when I'm such a...what was it? Oh, that's right, bitch."

Sammy smiled at Quinn again, and it was oddly beautiful in it's strangeness. "A girls gotta try, right?"

Quinn wanted to comment on how a girl-_the girl_-should try, just _try_, but she's wanted to say a lot of things tonight only to end in silence. This moment was no different.

Quinn chugged the rest of the drink and placed her cup down before grabbing Sammy's right hand. "Do you like music?"

"I have a feeling I'd like anything you're leading me to."

* * *

Two hours and four more drinks later and Quinn is _plastered_.

She's grinding with Sammy on the dance floor, which is basically just having sex with clothes on at this point. The girl is funny and she has a snark that reminds her of another girl, the one she doesn't want to think about, so Quinn can handle this right now.

She doesn't know where Sadie is but she honestly doesn't care, not even when Sammy pushes her lips onto Quinn's without her permission.

She's better, softer, cooler, and quicker than that boy from earlier. She does everything at the right time, even when she pulls away to kiss Quinn's neck, and it speeds everything up at the same time that it slows it all down.

It's scary because Quinn likes this, she actually likes this girls lips on her own. It's not unpleasant, in fact, she probably could find pleasure in this moment if she wasn't Quinn Fabray. Overall, it's nice and it's pleasant but it hits Quinn that it's still not Santana, so she has to pull away, and just shrugs it off.

Sammy looks like she wants to say something but there's an arm pulling her away. Quinn looks to her right to see Sadie with that boy from earlier and Quinn narrows her eyes at him while simultaneously wrapping her arms around Sadie in a hug.

"Whoa, cool your jets, girl. I said get out not put something in." Sadie says as she embraces Quinn. She wraps her arms around Quinn and it breaks Sammy out of whatever haze she seems to be in.

"Who the hell are you?" Sammy asks, a little irritated and a lot more curious.

Sadie pushes Quinn away, her hand clasped tightly around Quinn's. She narrowed her eyes at Sammy. "Her lesbian lover, what's it to you?"

Sammy looked surprised before quickly masking the look with a smile. She reached her hand into her leather jacket and pulled out a permanent marker. She uncapped it and reached for Quinn's hand, scribbling something on the back of her free hand. "Give me a call if that ever changes."

Quinn smiled at Sammy, the girl was nice, even if she was retreating.

Sadie squeezed her hand. "Okay, Quinn, it's time to get you back. You had way too much fun."

The boy from earlier just stared as Sadie started pulling Quinn away from the party. As they passed the boy Quinn patted his shoulder again. "Don't worry, she wasn't a better kisser than you because she's a girl. She was a better kisser than you because you lack skill and kind of suck. Cheer up."

Sadie laughed at that because, wow, Quinn sometimes.

* * *

Sadie had to practically carry Quinn out of the party but once they reached outside she let Quinn loose. Sadie led them through the longer route because she wanted to stop at the local coffee shop and grab Quinn something to sober her up. The only problem was that they didn't serve drunk students so Sadie told Quinn to wait outside while she ordered them some coffee and food.

"Promise me you'll stay here?"

Quinn nodded. The world was moving too fast for her to move. "I promise."

"Good, or I'd have to kick your ass." Sadie said with a nod before entering into their little coffee shop diner thing.

Sadie's gone for a few minutes before Quinn remembers that she has her phone and she has people to call. She pulls her phone out and bypasses all the text messages, her fingers dialing the person she always wanted to.

It takes two rings, just like always, before Santana answers. Her voice is groggy and for the first time, Quinn wonders what time it is.

"Quinn?" Santana asks, curious.

"Santana-ana-ana, Santana-ana-ana," Quinn sings, off key and happily.

She hears rustling before Santana comes back, way more alert. "Are you drunk?"

Quinn freezes like Santana can actually see her. "No. Yes. Maybe. Which answer is the right one?"

"Quinn," Santana sounds concerned. "Where are you?"

"By a diner waiting for coffee."

"It's almost one in the morning, what diner is open?"

Quinn laughs, carefree and lightly. She starts walking back and forth, her legs pacing with her thoughts. "The open ones, duh."

Santana growls, she literally growls, and Quinn thinks that maybe this moment is serious for Santana, and it's funny because this moment is only nice for Quinn. "Are you with anyone?"

"No." Quinn answers, it's technically true. "Would you be a cloud with me?"

Santana seems thrown off by Quinn's answer. There's more rustling and Santana sounds softer when she speaks again. "What are you talking about, Q?"

"I want you to be a cloud with me and only with me because clouds get to float everywhere and choose wh-" Quinn is cut off shortly after she starts. Her heel hits an icy part of the sidewalk and before she knows it, she's slipping again. Except this time is worse because there's literally nobody there to see her, let alone catch her.

Her back hits the concrete before her head does, but either way, the pain is almost too much to bear. Even with all the alcohol in her system, it hurts, and she cries out. Miraculously though, her hand is still gripping her cell phone and Santana hears everything.

"Quinn?" Santana sounds panicked. "Quinn, Quinn? Are you okay?"

Quinn can't help it, she cries, _again_. It's pathetic and she hates herself, but her back hurts so much and she's just so scared that she's going back towards that girl in the hospital bed. "I fell." She sniffles when she feels like she can talk again.

Quinn hears movement, except louder this time, before Santana's stern voice pushes through the phone. "Where?"

Quinn cries harder when she moves and her back spasms. "Outside."

She can't hear what Santana says next though because Sadie comes running outside from the diner. She drops the food and coffee on the ground, her hands pulling Quinn up into a sitting position. "Quinn? Fuck, Quinn, are you okay?"

Quinn cries and shakes her head. "My back."

Sadie nods. "Okay, okay. I'm going to help you up, we'll get you back, alright...poor choice of words."

Quinn laughs at that and Sadie smiles relieved. Santana's voice is still filtering through the phone when Sadie grabs it and ends the call. The last thing Quinn hears is:

"Who the fuck is that?"

* * *

Sadie gets her back into the dorm, helps her change, and then settles her into bed before she pulls away. It's nearing two am and Quinn knows that Sadie's got plans, just from the way she looks at Quinn.

Sadie rubs her neck. "Quinn, you know I got your back, but I kind-of have plans for a good old fashioned booty call and-

Quinn waves her hand at her, dismissively. "Just go, thank you."

Sadie looks relieved. "Call me if you need anything."

Quinn nods her head, she knows that she won't.

* * *

It doesn't take her long to pass out, but it does take her a long time to hear the banging on the door. She pulls herself from her sleep, her eyes glancing at the clock. It was a little after six am and Quinn just assumed that Sadie forget her key. She pulled herself out of bed, wincing (and ignoring) the pain in her lower back.

She opened the door, her eyes squinting at the light, a mean taunt on her tongue, when she freezes. Standing in front of her in all of her early morning glory, is Santana Lopez.

"Santana?" Quinn asks, her voice raspy and her head thinking it's a dream.

Santana looks like she's been crying and Quinn can't help but wonder why. The events of last night are fuzzy, at best, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't still drunk. Santana licks her lips. "Why don't you ever answer your fucking phone?"

"Sorry," Quinn mumbles. "I'm drunk, I think."

Santana laughed, her hair down and her jeans looking as worn as her. "No shit, Sherlock."

"What are you doing here?" Quinn asks because she's curious, she really is. It's six am and she's genuinely confused.

Santana grabs something from behind her and lifts it. "It's getting cold, you know, and I figured you'd need your cane."

Quinn can't help the feeling that wraps itself around her heart, so instead she clears her throat. "At six in the morning?"

"Are you going to invite me in or continue asking me questions?" Santana asks, her words mean but her voice soft.

Quinn stepped to the side. "You don't need an invitation."

Santana walks in pulling a bag in behind her, and Quinn can't really wrap her mind around it. She closes the door behind Santana and when she turns around Santana's on her in seconds. Santana's lips connect with hers and Quinn knows that she should say something, but instead she kisses her back.

Santana grabs the back of Quinn's head and pushes her head more forcefully into Quinn, as if she was trying to fix Quinn with her kisses. It takes a moment before Santana slips her tongue into Quinn's mouth and Quinn grips Santana's hips on reflex. Santana's possessing every part of Quinn's mouth and that fact makes Quinn groan loudly. Her noise makes Santana push her into the door forcefully, and the contact makes Quinn shout in pain instead of pleasure.

And just as quickly as Santana was there, she's gone, her hand over her mouth and her eyes filling with tears. Quinn musters up a smile. "I'm okay, Santana, it just hurts a little."

Santana shakes her head, her hands leaving her mouth and instead pressing into Quinn, like she was trying to prove that she was real. "You scared the shit out of me."

Quinn looked at Santana confused as Santana's hands slipped under Quinn's top and started rubbing her sides. "How?"

Santana stilled, her eyes looking at Quinn like she should know. "I thought-when you fell, I thought I had lost you again." Santana chokes out the last part, and the tears start falling without her permission.

Quinn sighed, relaxing into Santana's touch. "So you got on a train and came here? You could have waited."

"I had to see you," Santana protests. "I had to make sure you were still here and still Quinn."

Quinn doesn't comment on the kiss because she really doesn't know what it means, she's tired and she's drunk, and she finally has Santana without Brittany or anyone else. Honestly, she just wants to go back to bed. "So, what now?" She asks, preferring to take Santana's lead.

Santana pulls away and wipes the tears away, like she's ashamed of them. "Right now, we go to bed. You let me be the big spoon and I let you sleep, and then when I see your roommate, I kick her ass."

Quinn wants to protest but Santana's already pulling her sweatshirt over her head, leaving herself in only her black lace bra and her jeans. She slips her shoes off and gestures for Quinn to follow her, but Quinn is too caught up in staring. Her mouth has gone dry at the sight of Santana and she knows it isn't normal, it isn't allowed. This is not the reaction she's supposed to be having, but she has it anyway.

She follows Santana to the bed and is about to lay down when Santana protests. She yanks on the hem of Quinn's t-shirt and Quinn looks at Santana confused. Santana rolls her eyes and yanks again. "I want to see it."

"It?" Quinn asks, offended.

Santana yanks on her shirt again. "I want to see your scars."

This time Quinn does protest, but Santana has always been the more adamant of the two. Santana almost always gets what she wants, and it's enough to make Quinn cave quickly. She lets Santana pull her shirt over her head, and pull Quinn down into the bed. Quinn, on reflex, tries to cover her sports bra covered body because even though she's been Quinn for a long time, she still feels as insecure about her looks as Lucy.

Santana pushes her hands away as she pulls Quinn into her. She starts by tracing the scar on Quinn's right shoulder before kissing it, she moves onto the scar on Quinn's neck and traces it before kissing it as well. She does the same thing to the three longer scars on Quinn's spine until she finds the biggest scar on Quinn's lower back. It's eleven inches and a constant reminder of the person she's been trying to get rid of. She hates that scar, she hates the fight, she hates the promises she made to God only to break them. Santana kisses all along the scar multiple times until Quinn starts to feel sleepy again. Santana pulls herself back up and pulls Quinn into her until she's spooning the girl with too much intensity.

Santana kisses the back of Quinn's neck, not admitting anything or promising her a future, but calming Quinn either way. "You're so beautiful." Santana whispers into Quinn's ear. "Don't ever think otherwise."

It's the last thing Quinn hears before she falls asleep, the thing she's heard all day (from people who didn't matter and in a way she'd never pay attention to) and the last thing she ever wants to hear for forever and a half (as long as it comes from Santana).

* * *

Sadie comes crashing back into their room four hours later. She looks like she had far too much fun the night before and she reeks of alcohol. She's about to quietly climb into bed and sleep off the events from the night before since it is Sunday. She's slipping into her pajamas when she notices that Quinn looks a lot larger then she did hours ago. For a second, she's completely concerned that when Quinn fell she turned into some sort-of weird mutant hybrid, because hey, weirder things have happened.

On closer inspection though, she notices that there's another girl in the bed behind Quinn. She's concerned that it's that weird lesbian girl from earlier, and that she's going to have to kick some major ass to defend Quinn's sketchy honor, when she notices that the girl is Hispanic and not a Leather Queen.

And, _hello, _she's not wearing a shirt. Woah, and neither is Quinn!

It takes barely a minute for Sadie to piece this awkward puzzle together, but when she does, she's fairly disappointed. She was trying to help Quinn and clearly, Quinn wasn't ready to be helped. Although, didn't this gay girl friend thing with a girlfriend friend thing live in New York? That would have to mean that she caught the train at...

_Holy Hell._

Sadie squinted her eyes in confusion. Those weren't the actions of a best friend, nor a girl in a relationship, so maybe Quinn wasn't seeing things. Nonetheless, Sadie wasn't about to let Quinn get away with caving, so she poked the girl in the neck a few times until Quinn opened her eyes, trying ridiculously hard to not accidentally get Quinn in the boob. She gestures towards the door and doesn't move until Quinn starts to follow her. She opens the door and takes one last look at the girl on the bed before she walks out, shutting it behind Quinn.

_Holy shit_, that girl was freaking gorgeous. What were they drinking in this Lima, Ohio? Because Sadie wanted to get her hands on it if they kept producing things as pretty as Quinn and this other girl. Sadie shakes her head and tells herself to focus on Quinn, now is not the time for ADD.

"What?" Quinn asks, confused as to why Sadie pulled her outside so early when she's still clearly drunk.

"Is that your lesbian friend?" Sadie asks, ignoring how her question sounds.

Quinn crosses her arms in defense. "That's crude."

Sadie threw her hands up in frustration. "It's just a question, Quinn!"

Quinn leaned in closer, she lowered her voice so that Sadie could take a hint to do the same. "Yes, that's her, are we done?"

"Wait," Sadie started. "You're telling me this girl traveled at six am just so she could get here by ten and see you?"

Quinn looked sheepish as she lowered her gaze to the floor. "Actually, she got here around six."

Sadie opened her mouth in surprise as realization dawned all over her face, the gears clicking into place. "Holy shit, she's practically Casanova. I think I just turned a little gay."

"What? You're the one who told me I needed to experience life without her!" Quinn whisper shouted, frustration creeping into her tone.

Sadie looked down at Quinn's now uncrossed arms and realized that the girl was still shirtless. "One: You couldn't have put a shirt on before coming out here? Cover up those bad boys." Sadie gestured to Quinn's breasts. "Two: Yeah, and I stand by that. You don't need to be spending your night curled up next to a girl who has a girlfriend-a girl, by the way, that happens to be one of your friends. No, you don't need to be doing that shit and she does it to you because you _let_ her."

Quinn crossed her arms back over her chest, her face flushing in embarrassment. "Do you have a point?"

"Yeah, it's that this chick traveled for four hours overnight because she heard you slip last night. I mean, Jesus, you're acting pretty fucked up-"

"Thanks," Quinn said sarcastically, completely done with this conversation. It was early and she was more tired than she was able to care.

"What I'm saying," Sadie continued, ignoring Quinn's comment. "Is that you're not alone."

"What?"

Sadie rolled her eyes on reflex (which, by the way, she must have picked up from Quinn because she never used to do it that much), as if it was totally obvious. "Whatever is happening here, it isn't just because you're convenient or pretty. Even though you are both-ow, no need to hit me, fuck. What I'm saying is that she clearly likes you. Like _likes you_, likes you. You know what I mean?"

Quinn nodded slowly, her mind grasping at the straws. "But Brittany?"

"Is your friend, and slightly irrelevant. Look, just because she likes you it doesn't mean she doesn't love Brittany. And just cause she's with Brittany doesn't mean she loves you less. Sometimes people stay where they are because it's easier, because it's harder to change."

"What should I do?" Quinn asks, her voice just as quiet as her confidence.

Sadie shrugged (another habit she picked up, shrugging was such a half-assed way of responding to actual questions, it was for people who couldn't commit to anything). "I can't tell you what to do, Quinn, not about this whole situation. However, I can tell you that the girl in that room traveled for hours just to make sure that you're okay."

"Okay?"

Sadie gestured towards the door. "So...if I were you, I'd go back in there and get back into bed with my best friend, and figure it all out in the morning."

"Wait, what about you?" Quinn asked, her hand on the doorknob, and her other hand twitching nervously.

"I got places to be, hoes to beat, the usual. You're Sadie free, alright? Go handle your shit, Quinn."

Quinn looked hesitant before she leaped at Sadie and hugged her. She pulled away quickly, embarrassed. "Thank you."

"For what?" Sadie asked, clearly confused. Sure, her advice was golden, but it wasn't hug worthy. Usually it was only slap worthy.

Quinn smiled, her hand opening the door. "For being my friend."


	7. She's a Killer Queen

_A/N: Thank you all for reading! I honestly only feel motivated to update this so frequently because of your reviews and your kindness/interest. My goal is to have a hundred followers/reviews BEFORE I hit ten chapters O.o. Um, this chapter is shorter because, again, the next one will be long. THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT, YOU ROCK! To answer a few of your Culry Q's (Questions, haha)._

_1. The action is going to be majorly insignificant for awhile, I want to focus on how they feel and not just them doing dirty things, I've never been particularly good at delving into that. I want to make it clear that this will be a long fic, so I hope you're not all expecting a quick ending._

_2. Kay: It was not my intention to make her seem like that girl at all, but it works, I suppose! :)_

_3. Sammy will be a presence that pops up more than once, for those of you that enjoyed her._

_4. Boringsiot: Your reviews are always endearing, thank you for being so kind._

_ON WITH IT!_

* * *

**She's a Killer Queen**

**(Guaranteed To Blow Your Mind, Anytime)**

Someone once said that life was 10% what happens to you and 90% what you make of it, but Santana thinks that's a bunch of crap. She calls _bullshit_, because sometimes you can't make anything out of your actions and _sometimes_ it's the rest of the world that makes it for you.

No. Life is all about give and take. You give a life, _they_ take one. You take an opportunity, they (society) give you reasons to feel condemned over it.

Overall, Santana thought it was stupid. She thought it was absolutely ridiculous to assume that everyone was heading somewhere, because how could you be heading anywhere if you had no idea where your destination was? Isn't that merely drifting?

She couldn't be a drifter, she couldn't. She had to be more successful than her brothers.

Her brothers, God, they weren't terrible people, they were great men. They were successful in their own ways. They were the type of men and people that others could build futures on, they were _reliable._ Her oldest brother, Daniel, fell in love when he was seventeen and Santana was three. She remembers it because she was in the shopping cart waiting for someone to pick her up so she could grab some candy and her brother just froze, he literally stopped moving and breathing and living.

At the time Santana didn't know what had come over him but for years, Daniel would call it love. She admires him, in a sense, having found the person that made him feel complete at such a young age, and still being with her to this very day. Daniel and her sister-in-law Claire were obviously still in love, they had three kids (who were beautiful and sweet and loving) and they were doing _okay_. Not great, but okay.

The thing is though that Santana knows Daniel doesn't regret meeting Claire or marrying her or loving her, but Santana still considers it a loss. Daniel was on his way to UCLA on a football scholarship, his dreams were going to make it out of Lima. Instead, he got Claire pregnant and decided to step up, stay behind, and support her. He currently worked as a Janitor for Dalton Academy (which, yes, _weird_) and Santana can only shake her head at his mistakes. Love made Daniel weak, it made him sacrifice himself and his dreams in order for something that he considered to be better.

To Santana, though, nothing that consisted of a future in Lima could ever really be better.

Her second eldest brother was no better.

Michael had fallen in love when he was sixteen and Santana was four. She doesn't remember this one because this was the age when Santana was too preoccupied with creating worlds in the sandbox to ever really notice grown up things. Michael had always been close to Daniel because they were only a year and three months apart, so when Daniel had moved out to be with Claire, Michael had been incredibly lonely.

Love hit Michael like age hit the world, he didn't see any day to day changes until all the shifts in his life and his ethics happened all at once. He had fallen, hard, for this girl who worked at the gas station.

This girl was three years older and too much to ever really love Michael back. It didn't change anything though, because he loved her. She didn't want Michael, or the baby they accidentally conceived.

It broke his heart when she left Lima.

It tore him apart when she gave away their child.

He still lives in Lima now, he works at that very same gas station. He drinks entirely too much and squints far too often, as if he can see the memories that linger all around town, as if he's hoping that one day time will reverse itself.

Then there's Matthew.

He's married to a girl he doesn't love, fathering a child that isn't his, but doing it all because he loves the kid. He works as a Principal at Lima Middle. He didn't fall in love with the girl, but he fell in love with the girls daughter, and wanted her to have the best life possible.

He was nineteen when he made the decision to stay behind, Santana was nine. To this day, Lola still thinks that Santana is her biological aunt, and Santana doesn't know if any of them will have the heart to tell the eleven year old girl otherwise.

_Eric._

By far her favorite and closest brother, he was the one that had always mattered to her most. So when he decided to give up his scholarship so that he could move with his 'high school sweetheart' to help her pursue her dreams, Santana had been angry. Eric was the last one left who could really go places, and he gave it all up for a girl who ended up leaving him when she finally became successful.

Now he's twenty-six, at a dead end job in Chicago, divorced, and he only sees his daughters twice a month. He loves his girls and Santana knows he wouldn't ever give them back for anything in the world, but she also sees the regret, and she hates the choices all of her brothers made.

Life isn't what you make of it, it's what it makes of you, and Santana couldn't let something as silly as love change her. She wouldn't let it.

She's not a screwed up girl, not by literal means. She has two parents, a family that loves her, and friends. That's more than Quinn had while growing up. But, the thing is, her brothers are all years older than her. She had no girls to bond with as a child because she was surround by boys, and her mother was always around catering to her brothers.

Her father was there for her, financially, but he was just as absent in her childhood as her mother. Don't get her wrong, they loved her, they truly did, but they had spent fourteen years raising kids before Santana ever came along. They were tired, resigned, and it showed.

She's not insinuating that her parents didn't love their family, what she's saying is her parents resigned themselves to roles in their lives. Her mother was the homemaker and her father the supporter, it didn't matter where they wanted to go before because that's where they ended up.

Santana knows her parents love her, she truly does, but she also knows that her parents don't really love each other. Not like they should. It's a marriage of convenience, of tradition, and they're just too old to go back now. They've spent so long together that it's too late to try and change, and Santana _sees _it in her mothers disappointed looks geared towards her brothers. She _hears _it in her mothers voice whenever she asks about New York, she _feels_ it through Quinn whenever she's around.

She feels like she never learned how to love things, not properly, because she spent far too much time in the background to ever pick up anything substantial. Her parents had been so tired from raising four kids that when she came along, they weren't as ready to put in the effort anymore, they were not as willing or as openly affectionate as they were with the others and Santana feels like she lost something along the way.

Growing up with four brothers, she only really learned how to _own_ something. She only knows how to be possessive with the things that she believes are _hers_, because she feels like she owns the rights to these things she doesn't want to share them, she doesn't know _how_ to.

Santana didn't ask for the hand she was dealt any more than Quinn asked for shitty parents, but it happened and Santana's had to make it work. She's had to make room for Quinn and Brittany and Rachel, she's had to learn how to love things the best that she could.

It's a little difficult sometimes, it feels like she's suffocating from feelings and all she wants to do is push them down and pretend they don't exist. All she wants to do is end up farther and further away from her brothers and her parents.

For the past five years Santana has been pushing these things called _feelings_ away, only for them to come back twice as strong. It goes to show just how much of a bitch life could be sometimes.

* * *

You ever have those moments where you know what's right, you know what you should do, and yet you still do the opposite?

It's like watching a movie you can't rewind, playing a character you can't take back.

She loves Brittany, she does, and sometimes Santana believes she _is_ in love with her. It's just... a lot of the time she feels _okay,_ she's just okay, and she feels like really great love wouldn't feel like this.

Brittany would likely go to the end of the world for Santana (and Santana would do the same out of loyalty), but Brittany also has this unwavering faith in her, she expects Santana to be tied down, and maybe that's what love is, maybe it's knowing who you're with and knowing what's coming.

But maybe that isn't love. Maybe that's _friendship_. Maybe Santana's in a relationship with her best friend, and it's more of a friendship then it really is a relationship.

Brittany supports her. She helped her out of the closet, she loves her. But she doesn't really challenge her, she doesn't surprise her, she doesn't push her. No, she needs Santana like Santana needs her, but maybe that isn't love. Maybe that's just a fear of change.

The thing with Quinn is completely different and if she's being honest, was years in the making. Santana knew it the moment she laid eyes on her, the moment Quinn first said sure, the moment when Quinn first kissed her...she knew those moments were all something that would happen.

Santana knows it because when she had first looked at Quinn, when she had seen that girl sitting alone on a bench, Santana had seen a _future._

She looked at Quinn that day (and every day since) and saw herself at eighty. Have you ever looked at someone and seen your whole future? Because that's what happened every time Santana looked at Quinn, and it's terrifying. She sees marriage, commitment, and love, and it terrifies her to her core because she isn't sure she even knows how to do commitment correctly. Let alone love.

When she looks at Brittany, Santana only sees safety, and that's a more true testament to their relationship than anything Santana could ever say out loud.

It's scary, not just because she could lose Brittany or Quinn or because she doesn't know how to handle something so loaded, it's scary because she doesn't know who she is, not anymore. She doesn't know how to stop kissing Quinn or stop being with Brittany, she doesn't know how to see Brittany like she sees Quinn, she doesn't know how to let herself do anything but take what she can from both girls.

Sure, it's wrong that she can't let go of either girl, it really is. It's just-maybe she knows she isn't as happy as she could be, maybe it does feel like she's settling, but who's to say she'd ever be this happier with Quinn? Sure, the feelings were there, but there was also a fight there, too.

Santana would be too possessive and Quinn would be too destructive, they wouldn't work because any time they've come together, it's blown up in their faces. They've left a trail of fires everywhere they've gone together, and that type of relationship is only one that could end in chaos.

Not to mention if this thing with Quinn is actually a _thing_, if Santana decides it's worth giving a go even though everything is screaming at her that it isn't. What is Santana attempts to do something with Quinn, only for Quinn to decide Santana isn't worth it? What if she's not even gay? What if she decides to leave Santana behind for some prep school boy just like she left Santana for Yale?

Then she'd have nothing, she'd be nothing. And if there's one thing her brothers ever taught her: it's Santana Lopez could never be a zero.

* * *

She's busy washing her face when she hears her cell phone ring. Santana glances at the caller id and answers quickly so her ring tone doesn't wake Quinn. It's well past two in the afternoon and Quinn is still out like a light. Santana doesn't know how to be anything but protective and possessive in times like these because she's never been good at expressing her love, let alone her worry, so she does what she can.

Unfortunately for Santana, doing what she can usually results in bitchy defensive Santana, and that's exactly the attitude she has when she snarls a greeting into the phone.

"Are you okay?"

Brittany doesn't seem phased by Santana's behavior, and for once, Santana wishes she would just say something instead of accepting Santana's behavior. Santana sighed. "Yes, B, I'm just super tired."

"Did they release Lola from the hospital yet? Or was the accident really bad?"

It takes a moment for all the gears to shift in Santana's head, for her to remember the excuse that spilled from her lips when she left New York in a hurry, instead of the honesty she should have relied on. Santana stays silent, knowing that now is the time to come clean and be honest with Brittany because she's seriously just screwing herself over at this point.

"S?" Brittany asks, concern floating through Santana's receiver, and it's the reminder Santana needs.

"No, she just hit her head, no biggie." Santana lies unnecessarily. It's the defining moment of their relationship, that Santana _still_ can't give all of herself to Brittany and that she isn't even trying to.

It's even more defining that Brittany has no questions, no real desire to push Santana even though it's clear that her lies are not well told. They don't tie up and it should mean something, the fact that Santana has put very little effort into constructing this story, but it doesn't because Santana won't let it.

"I miss you."

Santana breathes a sigh of relief. This part is _easy_ and she likes it the most, because there are no lies here, not when she says, "I miss you, too."

Brittany giggles, and Santana smiles on reflex. "When are you coming back?"

"My brother wants me to stay a few days," Santana lies, though this time she isn't really sure _why_ when it's clear that Quinn is alive and kicking. "So I'll probably be back around Wednesday."

"Okay," Brittany accepts. "I love you."

Santana knows it's the end of the conversation because for the first time, she isn't sure she means it when she says it back. Regardless, she says it anyway, and she feels appropriately awful while doing it.

* * *

After hanging up with Brittany, Santana shoved her phone back into her pocket and exited the dorm bathrooms so that she could return to Quinn. She's still shirtless and the kids in the dorms are staring at her like she's a piece of meat, but Santana doesn't care. She has no intention of putting clothes on because Santana feels like her body is saying the things that she can't, at least, not yet.

She pushes open Quinn's dorm door and shuts it behind her quietly. Quinn is snoring lightly, even though she constantly tells Santana she does no such thing, and Santana falters.

She's sees _it_ again, that _moment_, and it takes all of her willpower to not throw up at the vision. This time there is no marriage or 'I love yous' in the memory that she sees. No, this time Santana is eighty and she's curled up underneath a leopard blanket. She's eighty and she's laughing, because Quinn is eighty, too, Santana's laughing because Quinn's reading Santana quotes from her favorite book and she's doing it with a fake British accent, almost exactly like the one Santana hears in her head when she reads.

She's laughing because Quinn knows her well enough to know that that's what Santana hears whenever literature is involved. She's laughing because Quinn is eighty and her eyes are light, her face is covered in laugh lines that only make her more beautiful. Santana's laughing because the moment feels so damn happy, they look so damn happy, that Santana can't do anything else.

Santana almost trips over Quinn's shoe because the moment (the fake moment, the not-so-real-memory-but-the-memory-that-could-one-day-be-true) is all-consuming. It swallows her whole, it makes her falter, it makes her heart ache with so much damn sadness that Santana can't do anything but crumble under it's weight.

Because it isn't real, it's hopeless fancies, useless realities. It's her imagination besting her, trying to tempt her with the promise of _tomorrow_ when Santana clearly can't even make it through today.

Santana doesn't know what to do, she doesn't know how to express herself or give love or even ask for it. She just wants the feeling to stop being all consuming, to stop devouring her whole. Santana wants it to go away, she wants to stop thinking Quinn is beautiful, she wants to stop feeling like her heart is setting in this weird sunset of love.

Most of all, she just _wants_, and it's awful.

Santana doesn't know how to handle it, she's not good at feelings and she doesn't want to be, so she does the only thing she can think of. She strips out of her pants, ignoring how cold it feels (and relishing in how cold _she_ _finally_ feels) before pulling back the blanket that's covering Quinn and slipping under the covers.

She shakes Quinn until the girl is half-awake from her deep slumber, because Santana doesn't want to feel like this alone, she doesn't want to be the only person in this position.

"Wha's goin' on?" Quinn slurs, one eye cracked open and the other eye still trying to sleep. She looks so damn beautiful in a moment where she should only look stupid that Santana hurries to get out of it.

Santana grips Quinn's pajama bottoms, her hands finding the button and unbuttoning it. Quinn pulls away, and to her credit, is wide awake in a matter of seconds.

Quinn turns in Santana's arms until she's facing her, her face is contorted in confusion and her eyes look bugged out. "What are you-omg, are you naked?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "No, I have underwear on, Fabray." Santana pulls on the Quinn's bottoms again. "Get on with it."

"Wait-I-that's still naked-you-okay." Quinn settles on, and it's attractive, how flustered Quinn is over something that most people barely relish. Santana knows that she's pretty, but most people are so eager to see her goods that they barely take time to focus on her, and in this moment, Quinn is only focusing on her.

It's exactly what she wanted, exactly what she needed, and Santana groans with relief when Quinn pulls her pajama pants down and kicks them to the foot of her tiny ass bed. Concern flashes over Quinn's face as she looks into her eyes, but she doesn't pull away.

"Santana Lopez, you have no idea what you do to me." Quinn whispers, and Santana thinks that if Quinn's reaction is anything to go by, Quinn never meant to say that out loud. Maybe Santana doesn't know, but it can't be worse than what Quinn does to her, what she's doing to her...what she's changing. So Santana smiles, false bravado her go-to whenever she feels overwhelmed from pure emotion.

"Show me."


	8. So Hard For You To Keep Up

_A/N: Hey guys! Thank you for all of your reviews and questions and just general support. I've been going through a bit of a rough patch lately, I'm not going to lie. The person that I've been involved with...well, we've had a situation similar to this happen. SO. This chapter was like pulling teeth only because I felt no motivation or desire to even write this, so I hope it's good._

_Snixty9: I have to give you props because in a way you called it, haha. You are very sweet, thank you._

_JesterJessie: thank you, I appreciate your words. I just enjoy that people enjoy it!_

_Boringsiot: I appreciate your honesty, it's very...refreshing to hear. Only because sometimes I hate this story too, sometimes, when it reminds me of myself. _

_Anywho, to the rest of you, please read and review to let me know that this chapter wasn't as awful as I think it was. Anyway, I love you all, even if you don't review 3._

* * *

**So Hard For You To Keep Up **

**(So Hard For You To Leave Her)**

Quinn has absolutely no idea what she's doing. Not just in life, but in this moment.

Santana's lying next to her _naked_ and it takes all of Quinn's power to just keep breathing. She doesn't know what she's doing, she has no experience here. In fact, she doesn't even know what's about to happen but Quinn already compares herself to everyone else who's ever had the opportunity of being this intimate with Santana. Her thoughts land on Brittany (the person they should have landed on in the first place) and Quinn stills her hands instead of reaching for Santana.

"Brittany?" Quinn asks, she can't help herself from stating the obvious, even now.

Santana shrugs because to her, out of sight, out of mind. "Is in New York."

It's the wrong answer and Santana knows it, she has to, because Quinn pulls away from Santana's warmth. Quinn puts distance in between her and Santana, even though her bed isn't really big to begin with, and she hopes that her distance is as much of an answer as her next words will be. "I'm not having sex with you." Quinn says, her voice adamant and her resolve strong. "At least, not right now." Quinn adds as an afterthought.

Santana looks stricken, as if Quinn is finally burning her after all these years. "That's not what I want."

Quinn pulled the blankets tighter around her body, suddenly feeling incredibly self conscious. "Then what do you want?" Quinn's aware of the double meaning behind her question, but for once she doesn't care.

Santana grabbed Quinn's hands, stilling her movements. She shuffled her body closer to Quinn, her breath coming in shallow bursts over Quinn's face. "...just hold me? Please?"

Quinn nodded, because even in a moment as heartbreaking as this, Quinn couldn't disappoint Santana, she couldn't let her down. Quinn grabbed Santana and pulled Santana until she was laying on top of Quinn, her head nestled on Quinn's chest. Santana sighed in relief and Quinn felt her heart swell. Santana was warm, soft, and she fit into Quinn so well that Quinn couldn't help but wonder if they were always meant to fit together. "Sometimes I wish things were as easy as this."

Santana placed a soft kiss on Quinn's collarbone. "Me too."

* * *

Quinn doesn't really know how it happens or why, but a few hours later she's tangled in Santana and she's asleep, _again._

She doesn't want to move, not really, and she wouldn't have budged if Sadie hadn't torn through their dorm like it was on fire. She's stomping and traipsing through as if she's trying to wake up the whole world, and maybe she is, either way, it doesn't take long before Sadie turns her attention towards Quinn and Santana.

"Fuck no," Sadie starts, her finger poking Quinn in the cheek. "Fuck no, no, no. I will not stand for sexy lesbian sex in my dorm room, not from you two. Wake up!"

Santana pulled away from Quinn, a grumble in her throat. Quinn opened one eye, the rest of her body confused.

"Fabray, get a grip on your roommate before I ends her."

Quinn opened her other eye, her body suddenly cold as Sadie ripped the sheets from her.

"Aaaand you're naked." Sadie stated, trying to shield her eyes as Quinn scrambled to cover herself. "Fuck this, I am not...how are you both this good looking? Seriously? This is so unfair!"

Santana rubbed her eyes, she didn't look worried in the slightest. "Jealous?"

Quinn rubbed her face in irritation. "Did you just say sexy lesbian sex?"

"Well, what am I supposed to call it?" Sadie asked, oblivious to her words.

Santana shrugged, already more awake than anybody else in the room. She stretched her arms in front of her and pulled her body forward, stretching as if she were a cat. Quinn stared as Sadie looked at Santana with a weird sense of appreciation. Santana stood up and walked over towards the door, completely ignoring the fact that she was wearing nothing but a black lace bra and matching underwear.

"Next time take a picture." Santana called over her shoulder, and Quinn considered it a win, because at least she wasn't threatening Sadie or actually killing her roommate.

Sadie turned her attention back to Quinn and raised her eyebrows. Quinn felt her cheeks flush and she reached for her t-shirt, eager to cover up her bare body.

"We didn't have sex." Quinn commented, not really sure as to why she had to defend herself.

"Uh-huh."

"We were just cuddling."

Sadie looked at Quinn, her features pulled into a look of disbelief. "Sure."

"Sadie," Quinn warned, her t-shirt on and her pajama pants at her feet. "Why did you come barging in, anyway?"

Sadie shrugged, even though she clearly had an answer. "I'm sixty-two percent sure that I'm still drunk and for some reason I thought you'd want to know that."

Quinn laughed. "So you decided to barge in like I was having a group orgy? Real classy, Sadie, real classy."

"One: I had no idea you were capable of such phrases, so kudos on that." Sadie gestured wildly with her hand as she sat down on the corner of her bed. "Two: for all I know, you were having an orgy. After all, you were naked."

"Not true," Quinn protests. "We were wearing underwear."

Sadie narrowed her eyes. "Right. Same thing."

"That's not re-"

Sadie cuts Quinn off because she honestly doesn't really care about what half-assed excuse Quinn has. "Look here, Fabray, I didn't come in her to ruin your...wow, it's dinner time now, so night?" Sadie raised an eyebrow, somehow lost in time. "Anyway, I didn't come here to stop you from having sexy gay times, okay? I came back to stop you from doing those sexy gay times with her."

Quinn bit the corner of her hlip, completely aware to what Sadie was referring to. "It wasn't heading to that."

"Look here, Quinn, if you want to get down-down-like-Chinatown, that's your own business." Sadie started.

Quinn frowned. "That doesn't even make sense."

"_Anyway,_ I don't care if you want to do it with her. Just don't do _it_ until you're sure that you're the only _it _for her."

Quinn opened her mouth, completely thrown by Sadie's honesty. Santana chose that time to come marching back into the room, like she marched into Quinn's life. With no warning and no care in the world. She reached down and grabbed her jeans, slipping them on like they were always meant to be on her and reached for a sweatshirt that was on Quinn's bed.

It was Quinn's Yale sweatshirt, and it was clear that Santana knew it wasn't hers when she slipped it on, it was clear that she knew and didn't care. Santana glared at Sadie, her back towards Quinn and her feet flat on the ground. "Did you two intend to keep chatting like a bunch of girls all day or are we gonna go get some dinner?"

Santana heads towards the door again and for what is honestly not the first time (and probably not the last) Quinn feels obligated to follow. Sadie's eyes trail Santana's until she's out of their room before her gaze focuses back on Quinn.

"She makes me want to be a lesbian."

Quinn frowned, not entirely certain if she heard Sadie right. "What?"

Sadie stilled. "Nothing." She stood up and cocked her head towards the door. "You coming?"

"Sure."

* * *

Quinn stayed quiet as she followed Sadie and Santana down to their dining hall. How Santana could be so confident when she had absolutely no idea where they were actually going, Quinn didn't know. That was Santana though, all bravado and very little thought.

It made Quinn's heart hurt, to realize where she had just been an hour ago, and how close she had been to giving Santana everything. She didn't even know who she was anymore, she didn't know where to draw the line and it was becoming a problem. Santana had been such a big part of her life and she was taking such a huge part of Quinn (whether she was around Quinn or not) with her.

It was terrifying to realize that Quinn was becoming increasingly co-dependent. It was even more terrifying to realize that she was becoming co-dependent on someone who was in a relationship, a relationship with one of her other friends, and that Quinn barely cared.

The worst part though, was that Quinn was almost to the point that she would willingly hand over herself to Santana, and _still_ Santana couldn't be bothered to pick her, to choose her, to leave Brittany for her. She's still the second choice, she realizes, even when she's actually competing for first place, and that crushes her.

It crushes Quinn that she's good enough to have when Santana needs her, behind closed doors and on lonely nights, but she's not good enough to _love_ in public.

It kills her almost so badly that it shows, and often Quinn has to acknowledge that her feelings must be so evident that it's plastered over her face. it almost amazes her that nobody (including Brittany) has called her on it yet. She's surprised Brittany hasn't called her on anything.

Brittany's not an idiot, Quinn knows. Sure, she's dense to the world around her, but it's because Brittany chooses to be. She ignores the world and growing up because it's easier than thinking about how things might never be the same.

Quinn wants to be a good friend to her, she really does, but she doesn't know how to make herself care, not after all of these years. She's spent so long pushing everything down that some moments she almost believes she's okay. But then there are the moments where the old her cracks through the surface, and it feels like she might crumble. It's in these moments that Quinn thinks that she could willingly tear Brittany down.

It's a scarier thought, that she'd be willing to resort back to The Quinn Fabray just so she could win Santana, and it's even scarier that she's even contemplating it.

God, what was happening to her? What was she doing? Who was she becoming? And why couldn't Santana just pick _her _so that Quinn could actually figure who and what she was?

"Earth to Q?" Santana asked, her eyes concerned as they stood in front of the deli bar. Quinn shook her head, completely oblivious to how she had gotten there. Had she really zoned out for that long?

"Quinn?" Sadie asked, a wary look coming over her features, her eyes focusing on something over Quinn's shoulders.

"Yeah?"

Sadie licked her lips, her eyes glancing over towards Santana (who looked irritated) and back at Quinn. "Um, freaky-deaky at nine o'clock. I repeat, freaky-deaky at nine o'clock."

Quinn rolled her eyes, her body reeking of exasperation. "Sadie." Quinn said sternly, "I told you I didn't want to make up a roommate code with you, can you please drop it?"

Sadie threw her hands up. "Fine, your problem, not mine." She pointed at Quinn. "For the record, our roommate code would have been the shit."

Quinn shook her head as Sadie stepped away and headed towards the burrito bar. Santana gave Quinn a look, a 'lima heights look' and Quinn pushed away a laugh.

"You would get the crazy ass roommate, Q." Santana says offhandedly, and Quinn is inclined to agree. She's about to respond when she feels a tap on her shoulder. She turns around, thinking that it's Sadie, and comes eye-to-eye with that girl from the party. Immediately Quinn's stomach sinks.

Sammy smiles at her, her make-up gone but her face still oddly beautiful. "One day I hope to get your attention simply by being present instead of practically forcing myself on you."

Quinn smiles because this girl is all brash, bravery, and brutalness and it reminds Quinn of her girl, the girl behind her. "But then you wouldn't get the opportunity to be so forward."

"Ah," Sammy says with a laugh, "And here I was thinking that you might have lost your brutal touch along with the alcohol."

Quinn laughed, her response immediate and honest. She hears a throat clear itself behind her and it takes a less than a minute for Quinn to realize that this is going to end badly. Sammy looks around Quinn, her eyes squinted in confusion. Santana takes this moment of silence to step forward and situate herself between Sammy and Quinn. Santana's eyes are hard and her shoulders are tense, and Quinn just knows that this is what jealousy looks like on Santana Lopez.

It should make her happy, but it just makes her feel sick.

Santana shoves her hand into Sammy's and gives her hand a hard shake. "How do you know Quinn?"

Sammy's smile falters and she glances at Quinn (who quickly looks away). "I'm Sammy."

Santana bared her teeth, her smile sickeningly sweet and pure evil. She pulled Quinn's sweatshirt down and locked eyes with Sammy. "That isn't what I asked."

Sammy, for her part, falters and it's almost too beautiful for Quinn to look at; Santana Lopez in action. "Um, we ran into each other last night."

"Where?"

Sammy cocked her head, sending a wary glance to Quinn. Quinn shrugged, not really ready to put herself into this moment, so Sammy puffed out her chest and pretended to have as much confidence as Santana had pure anger. "What's your name again?"

Santana practically snarls. "It's Santana, the only S name that really matters in this conversation. So why don't you scamper back over to your little table of weirdos and leave me and Q alone, huh?"

"Wow, I didn't know that Quinn needed a personal bodyguard to have conversations for her." Sammy stepped back, her face flustered and her eyes irritated. She shot Quinn a sympathetic look. "Call me when you're ready to have a good time, Quinn."

With that, Sammy turned and headed over towards the people that Quinn could only assume were her friends. In a way, Quinn feels immensely satisfied when Santana grabs Quinn's hand and pulls her towards the bathroom. Her feeling of elation only grows when Santana grabs her hand in irritation and starts scrubbing off the faded number, the one Quinn had already forgotten. Santana's scrubbing as if it's her only option, her salvation, and Quinn wants to hug her. There's always something underneath the surface with Santana, something she has such cool control over, and Quinn feels like for the first time she's actually seeing it break.

It's almost like they're dating and Quinn likes it, almost too much. She's terrified of being alone again, of being unwanted, of this moment ending and reality seeping back through. It seems like as quick as she was to feel elated, she's just as quick to let her emotions change at Santana's reaction. How dare she act like Quinn is _hers_ when Santana has picked Brittany over her time and time again. How dare she _assume_ that she has any claim over Quinn and who she speaks to, how dare she act like she didn't leave Quinn for New York, like she didn't choose greener pastures instead of just choosing _her_.

All at once, everything breaks, and just as easily as Quinn let this illusion fall together, she let's it go. She's angry, so fucking angry, because she feels used, walked over, and just like always: not good enough.

Before Quinn knows what she's doing, she's retracting her hand, ignoring the pained look on Santana's face. She gets it now, she _gets_ it, and suddenly Quinn doesn't feel like staying silent anymore. "You need to leave." She practically whispers because there's only one person that needs to hear it, and it isn't her.

Santana's expression softens and she runs her hand through her hair. "Q, listen, I'm sorry that I was such a bitch...it's just, you're my best friend, ya know? That girl looked like she wanted to devour you whole and I couldn't let that happen."

"Why not?" Quinn counters, taking a step back from Santana's intoxicating bubble.

Santana shrugs meekly. "We're best friends."

Quinn rolls her eyes frustrated, she deserved better than Santana's go-to lies. "Don't lie to me, not after treating me like that."

Santana, ever so adamant to cling to the way things were, not ready to let go of her false reality, shrugs. Her expression is somber and Quinn knows that's as good of an answer as any. "Can't we just go back to normal?"

"I don't think we've ever been that." Quinn answers, hating how her voice cracks at the end of the sentence. Santana takes a step forward to console her and Quinn takes a step back on reflex, not ready to let Santana consume her. She has to do this, she has to separate herself, she has to show Santana that she deserves to get something other than she's been given. "You're taking advantage of me."

Santana crumbles at Quinn's words, at the words they both secretly agreed to never say. It's words that ruin friendships and end relationships. It's words that crumble realities and create new (more alone) worlds. Santana takes a huge breath, as if air was the end all be all. Quinn can see it all pass through Santana's face, she can see how she pushed Santana and she can see how Santana's going to push back. She sees it before she hears Santana say, "I don't know what this is Q, what I'm doing, but whatever this is, maybe we could..."

Quinn sees it, she hears it, and she realizes that she's not ready. She realizes that she pushed Santana to where she is only for Quinn to realize that she isn't ready. She doesn't know how to do this, she doesn't know how to be gay or love someone (if that's what this is) when she doesn't even know how to love herself. It's too much, way too much, and Quinn panics just like she always does. "I'm not gay."

Santana's face crumbles in response and Quinn closes her eyes when she hears a sob slip through Santana's lips. "Oh, go fuck yourself."

Quinn doesn't move when she feels Santana slip past her, she doesn't even move when she hears the door slam. She just stands there with her freshly scrubbed hand and her freshly scrubbed hand, wondering how she could possibly be so stupid.

* * *

Quinn ignores Sadie's random questions about Santana all through dinner. She ignores Sadie's worried glances at the clock because it _is_ late and it _is_ dark and Santana _is_ a pretty girl who's all alone.

She ignores Sadie's curious glances Sadie gives her when they return to their dorm only to find all of Santana's stuff gone. She ignores it and she forces herself not to cry, because she'll be damned if she cries over Santana Lopez.

It takes her barely an hour to pick up the mess Santana left behind (the one in her room) and a little over that to realize that Santana really is gone and so is Quinn's sweater.

That thought alone is enough to get her through the night.

* * *

**Monday:**

Monday comes all too quickly and harshly for Quinn's liking. The sun is bright, brighter than Quinn these days, and she hates it. She has one text on her phone and it burns as much as the sun does.

_**Rachel:**_ _Santana made it home okay. She hasn't stopped crying. She told Brittany, Kurt, and I to leave her alone. I know she was with you, Quinn. Are you okay?_

Quinn ignores the text message and heads to class, pretending not to see Sadie on her way out. She doesn't need more reminders of who she used to be or who she's supposed to be. She just needs to get through today so that she can get through tomorrow.

* * *

**Tuesday:**

Tuesday isn't easier than Monday, if anything, it's _worse_.

She texted Sammy to apologize and even though Quinn knows that it's the right thing to do, she still feels guilty, like she's cheating on Santana. It's ridiculous because Santana doesn't own her in any way but it feels like she owns Quinn in every way that really matters.

She gives Sadie a half smile even though she doesn't mean it and walks the usual path to her Professor's class. She isn't eager to see him because she's been dodging his calls, suddenly not too eager to have her mouth invaded by him when she's already had her heart invaded by someone else.

She sits down in the back of her class and does her best to blend in, even when her teacher seems to single her out by touching her shoulder for far too long. She shrugs it off and takes her fall from grace as gracefully as she could, even when her teacher hands her back a paper that Quinn knows she worked hard on, only for it to read:

**C-.**

**(Please see me after class. -David)**

Quinn supposes that's just the way her life is going these days. She can suck this up, she can be a bigger and better person who doesn't need to rely on someone else to get somewhere. So instead of staying after class, she breezes right by David with the notion that she'll just have to do better next time.

* * *

**Wednesday:**

Wednesday is a little bit better, but not where it counts.

She's more focused in her school work and without all of the distractions that are usually her life, Quinn feels like she's actually getting it. She's hitting her stride, the work is getting easier and she knows she can walk these hallways just like she walked through the ones in McKinley.

The only problem with that though, is that it feels a lot more hollow when you don't have someone to travel the hallways with you.

Sadie is a godsend, only because she can never shut up and she rambles and rambles until Quinn gets to the point where she feels like she's actually participating in the conversation.

She misses Santana. God, how she just misses Santana, and it sucks because how can you miss somebody so much when they're probably not even thinking of you?

She goes on with her life because she feels like that's what she's supposed to do. She isn't happy about it, but she does it.

* * *

**Thursday:**

Thursday is hard, especially when she receives a message from Rachel that Santana is now coping by having copious amounts of sex with Brittany. It bugs her because Quinn thought she meant more than that, and it bugs her even more that she expected Santana to remain celibate with her freaking girlfriend just because she liked to get drunk and grope Quinn.

She's having a bad day and the fact that her rewritten essay has been upgraded to a B doesn't make anything better. Sure, David relented, but Quinn knows she's won a battle not the war.

She's tired and irritated and just wants to spend her day curled into a ball when Sadie comes running in, her hair wild and her breathing erratic.

She plops down next to Quinn on her bed, her knapsack shaking strangely. "I'm just going to say it," Sadie started, as if she expected Quinn to know what she was talking about. "It's clear that I have a problem."

Quinn closes her book, wondering if this is the alcohol conversation Rachel told her she'd have to have with Sadie, especially since Sadie's margarita intake seemed to be increasing. "I wasn't going to mention it..."

"I know, I know. It's just so hard for me, but the first step is admitting you have a problem..." Sadie said seriously, her face solemn.

Quinn nodded. "Right, go ahead then."

"Quinn..." Sadie trailed off, her gaze scanning the room before settling on Quinn again. "I'm an avid gossiper."

"I know-What?" Quinn asked, incredulously.

Sadie nodded religiously. "If being nosy was a job, I'd clearly be making overtime."

"...okay."

"It's just," Sadie continued. "I can't resist the juicy rumors, but I'm working on it. You forgive me, right?"

Quinn shrugged, completely at a loss in this conversation. "Sure?"

Sadie looked relieved, her shoulders rolling to release the tension. She reached inside of her bag and pulled out two bottles. "Good. Margarita?"

Quinn laughed, relieved because Sadie would always be Sadie.

* * *

**Friday:**

Friday feels worse than all the days put together because it's the first weekend where Quinn has had to realize that she truly is alone. She has no Santana, no Rachel, no family...no things that remind her of home. It's strange, but as she nurses a hangover it hits Quinn how being lonely is just that, and she gets why Sadie leans on margaritas. It's easier to rely on something that will never leave you alone, and Quinn gets that. It hurts, but she gets that.

Her phone vibrates and she groans in unison, along with Sadie, who's wearing booty shorts and a fanny pack. Quinn squints because she has no idea how _that_ happened.

She grabbed her phone and slid it open, rolling her eyes at the text that showed up.

_**Sammy:**_ _I wish my hair and my taxes were asexual so they would do themselves..._

Quinn rolled her eyes at the weird message. Sammy was perhaps one of the most random girls she had ever met, and Quinn was thankful that the girl was still willing to be her friend after all of what happened earlier this week.

_**Quinn:**_ _And the winner of the weird text award goes to...you._

_**Sammy:**_ _;) Sassy in the afternoon, I like it. Come out with me tonight._

_**Quinn:**_ _Thanks for the invite, but I'm staying in this weekend._

_**Sammy:**_ _srsly? You seem like you could use a good frolic._

_**Quinn:**_ _I'm not gay._

_**Sammy:**_ _Neither am I._

It bothers her that both Santana and Sammy brushed off her statement like it was less than that, like Quinn was just saying it because she could or because it's an excuse, instead of thinking that maybe Quinn really doesn't know.

_**Quinn:**_ _Fine, but no funny business._

_**Sammy:**_ _I have massive doubts that anyone would ever try and be funny with you._

* * *

She brings Sadie along because the girl is the closest thing to a friend that Quinn has. Plus, she's not entirely sure what will happen tonight and Quinn thinks it's best to have someone around who will reign her in if she happens to get out of control.

Quinn isn't going to lie, she knows she looks hot, and she knows it because practically everyone at this party looks at her like she's the best thing to ever happen. Including Sammy. She's had a long week and all she wants to do is get drunk and forget about Santana.

But Santana is unwilling to be forgotten, at least this easily, if Quinn's phone is any indication.

It lights up and Quinn thinks that her phone is brighter when it's filled with Santana's name, just like Quinn is brighter whenever Santana's around.

_**Santana: **__I fucking miss you._

_**Santana: **__I get it, but I fucking miss you._

_**Santana: **__I'll be better, I promise._

Quinn doesn't say anything, she doesn't want to. There's this ache in her heart, this hole that's never felt quite full, no matter what she's done or who's she picked to fill it and it only grows larger with each of Santana's messages. She doesn't need someone around to point out that none of the messages say: 'i love you' or 'i choose you', and she doesn't want them to, either.

She can't cry, not now, not ever.

So she does the only thing she can, the only thing she feels good at right now, she reaches for a drink. She scarfs down four tequila shots before reaching for Sadie's Gin and Tonic. "Give me that."

Sadie looks at her warily. "Um, are you sure?"

Quinn grabs the drink from Sadie's hand, angry that Sadie is questioning her when Quinn isn't the one with the actual problem. "So, what? Now is the time to start watching our alcohol intake?"

Quinn knows her words sting, she knows before Sadie flinches, her face jerking back in reflex. Quinn downs the rest of the drink and turns away, her eyes focusing on the only person she cares to focus on right now. She pushes her way through the crowd and grabs Sammy's face, pulling her mouth into Quinn's.

Sammy doesn't protest and it makes Quinn's confidence flare because-well, of course she didn't.

Sammy's sweet and she doesn't ask Quinn questions. She's sweet and she tastes like cinnamon right now, cinnamon and whiskey, instead of Tequila. She's shorter than Quinn is used to, then Quinn wants her to be. But she works.

She isn't tan or tall or mean and she doesn't take charge, she doesn't push Quinn or pull her or even leave her behind. Sammy isn't what Quinn wants, but she's easy and she's right for this moment, so Quinn tries to take all of her.

Refusing to acknowledge the fact that she might not be gay, that her heart belongs somewhere else, that she's so angry that she's willing to lose herself somewhere just so she could feel a whole less sad.

* * *

Quinn is plastered, again, and she's beginning to think that she enjoys the feeling. Drunk Quinn is a fun Quinn, a Quinn that doesn't care about love or herself or anything outside of weird things.

Like, has anyone ever considered the fact that penguins bow to each other? How cool would that be, everyone would be so polite.

Or, how sometimes powerade tastes almost exactly like gatorade, but one is apparently different than the other. Quinn shakes her head as she pushes her way into the bathroom, her mind scattered all over the place.

She knows she came in here to pee, but she calls Rachel instead, because drinking makes her want to _try_.

Rachel picks up after a few rings and Quinn's heart swells. it's nice to feel important, if only for a moment.

"Quinn?" Rachel treads hesitantly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm so drunk that it _hurts_." Quinn answers, she's past the point of pretending like she doesn't want to be honest.

Rachel sounds devastated at Quinn's answer. "What does?"

"Everything?" Quinn whispers, and it's only seconds until the tears start flowing.

Rachel sighs, "Quinn...Quinn I am so sorry, okay? Tell me what to do, I'll do anything."

If she was sober, Quinn would have questioned Rachel's desire to please her, she would have wondered why Rachel was so eager. But Quinn wasn't sober, she was only hurt, and she could only release her pain instead of holding it in."I don't know how to do this anymore."

"Do what?"

"Pretend like I'm okay." Quinn sobbed, the tears falling faster now. She leaned against the wall, every part of her defeated as she sank to the floor. She couldn't do this, not anymore. She could barely breath without Santana, how was she going to survive without her?

She felt like such a sad sack of shit for needing someone like this, for falling so low. She felt so much unlike a Fabray in this moment, and it made her cry harder.

"Oh, sweetie."


	9. I Wanna Start A Fight

_A/N: This is working off of the idea that classes begin on August 29th. Btw, past tense/present tense, whatevs. I always seem to have trouble with it. Blame it on the fact that English isn't my only language. I love commas as well (obviously). This friendship/relationship that Quinn has going on with Santana, I actually have, so I hope it seems believable (because it actually has happened, haha)._

_A/N 2: this is short, I know, but it's because big things are coming! I hope you all enjoy it. I certainly enjoyed writing it. Please read and review!_

_Dedication: Oh, and because I can't dedicate this to my 100th follower (I tried to figure it out but there's no real way to tell who it is) this is for Bluemaria34 who wrote my 100th review! Thank you and enjoy!_

* * *

**I Wanna Start A Fight**

**(Na Na Na Na Na Na Na) **

Quinn sighed and hit replay on her computer. She ignored the groan of protest that came from across the room and turned the volume up, her eyes trained on the television episode that was playing through her computer screen. She was carefully settled on her bed and Sadie was lying carelessly on hers and they were doing what Sadie called "bonding". Really, Quinn just calls it being bored.

It's Friday and for once Quinn and Sadie both don't have anything to do. So they're both confined to their dorm room until something better came along. Sadie had taken to groaning every few moments as if that would solve all of her problems. Quinn had decided to use her free time to watch something on her computer.

Quinn pretended not to mouth the words as the episode continued, but gave in when she heard the song that gave her chills every time. Quinn pretends like she isn't close to tears, her voice raising an octave as it cracked.

_You're a true friend_

_You're here till the end_

_You pull me aside_

_When something ain't right_

_Talk with me now and into the night_

_'Til it's alright again_

_You're a true friend_

She's halfway through the second verse when Sadie's hand appears out of nowhere and slams her computer shut. Quinn blinked away tears and does her best to look intimidating. It's a little hard considering her current position.

Sadie seems to agree because she doesn't budge. Instead she narrows her eyes and places her hands on her hips, her stance completely ready for a battle. "I swear to God, if you watch that Hannah Montana episode one more time I'm going to kill you." Sadie clenches and unclenches her hand as if it proves her point.

Quinn tries not to laugh because Sadie obviously doesn't know the real meaning of intimidation. Intimidation is a cheerleading coach in Lima that once held a mandatory cheerleading practice in Canada (while providing transportation, of course, but _still). _Intimidation is a Cheerio Co-Captain that set Noah Puckerman's football uniform on fire in front of the whole school and still managed to convince Principal Figgin's that she was home sick that day.

Intimidation isn't (nor does Quinn think it ever could be) Sadie's thing, so Quinn doesn't buy into it. Instead she raises her eyebrows and waits for Sadie to continue. It works and Sadie huffs in response. "Quinn, you've watched that episode sixty-two times in the past two weeks." Sadie held up her hand before Quinn could object. "Before you pick a fight, I _know_ because I counted."

"It's a motivational episode." Quinn defends, trying not to sound desperate even though it's clear that she is.

"It's _Hannah Montana_." Sadie emphasizes, as if her stating the name out loud changed everything. Sadie's features soften after a beat (like they often have since Quinn's breakdown in the bathroom) and she drops her arms. "Why don't you just call her? It's been two weeks, Quinn. Halloween is tomorrow and I don't think I could welcome such a monumentally great holiday with this hanging over our head."

"Hanging over our head?" Quinn repeated, confused. "Halloween is a monumentally great holiday?"

Sadie nods as if it's obvious. "Halloween builds bridges and creates families."

Quinn laughed. Her shoulders shaking with each laugh she projected. She stretched out her legs on her bed and ignored how hew yoga pants slid up. She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt because it was exceptionally cold these days. Quinn continued to laugh while Sadie looked stricken.

"This is no laughing matter, Quinn! Halloween is a very important and serious day. Do you really want to go into it depressed?"

Quinn grabbed her pillow and threw it at Sadie, grimacing when the girl ducked. For a girl who was far too co-dependent on alcohol, Sadie had awfully quick reflexes. "I am not depressed!"

Sadie stood tall, her hands up in surrender and her Yale t-shirt rising up. "All I'm saying, Quinn, is that you obviously want to talk to her. So call her. You guys are friends, aren't you?"

Quinn didn't want to answer because she honestly didn't know. All she had these days was the mess that used to be her life, a mess that she created. She can't admit something like that out loud because even though she likes Sadie, she honestly doesn't really trust her. The last person she trusted was Santana and that relationship was basically ruining her. Quinn wasn't ready to go down that route again. Not now.

Instead of opening herself up, Quinn felt herself resort to her old tendencies. She resorted to the girl she used to be when she was trying to hide Lucy. She resorted to the girl who was all brass and harsh edges.

"Why the _fuck_ do you care?" Quinn snapped before she could regret it. "Why don't you get a life of your own instead of constantly prying into mine?"

Sadie's demeanor changed and if Quinn had ever been a good judge of _anything_ she would have acknowledged that she had made a mistake. Sadie turned around and shoved her hand in her drawer, pulling out a portable margarita—which, really? Where was she getting those things from?—and pointing it towards Quinn. "You know what, Quinn? Fuck _you. _ Two months we've been living here, huh? Can you even name one fact about me?"

Quinn froze in fear, her hands curling into her bedspread. Sadie looked put out and just nodded her head as if she expected it. "Yeah," Sadie said sadly. "That's what I thought."

Without another word Sadie headed towards their door and pulled it open, her body hesitating for only a brief moment before pushing through the doorway and exiting the room completely. Quinn looked on in disbelief because Sadie was wearing a t-shirt, short shorts and flip flops. Obviously she wasn't dressed to impress, she couldn't get that far.

Quinn licked her lips. Sadie must have been pretty pissed off to leave like that. In the two months that Quinn had lived with her, Sadie had never left in the middle of an argument. And that's saying something because they had once had the debate of Justin Bieber vs. Taylor Swift.

Quinn plopped backwards on her bed and closed her eyes. She was certainly screwing up everything these days.

* * *

_**Two weeks earlier**_

_"I don't know how to do this anymore."_

_"Do what?"_

_"Pretend like I'm okay." Quinn sobbed, the tears falling faster now. She leaned against the wall, every part of her defeated as she sank to the floor. She couldn't do this, not anymore. She could barely breathe without Santana, how was she going to survive without her?_

_She felt like such a sad sack of shit for needing someone like this, for falling so low. She felt so much unlike a Fabray in this moment, and it made her cry harder._

_"Oh, sweetie."_

"_I think I'm broken." Quinn cried._

_Quinn heard Rachel take a sharp intake of breath before she answered. Quinn wasn't sure, but it sounded like Rachel was crying. "Quinn, you're not broken."_

"_Prove it."_

"_Sweetie," Rachel said quietly. "It's not something you prove, it's something you feel."_

_Quinn closed her eyes in frustration, her mind fighting everything and anything. "I feel broken."_

"_Where?"_

"_Everywhere," Quinn answered honestly._

"_No, where?" Rachel prodded. _

_Quinn took a lungful of air, as if the truth required more breath. "My heart." Quinn placed a hand over her heart. "My head. My body."_

"_Quinn…" Rachel trailed off, her voice sad and the conversation oddly defining. "Does this have something to do with Santana?"_

_Quinn nodded her head 'yes' even though Rachel couldn't see her. She brought her knees up to her chest and laid her chin on them. "Yes."_

_Rachel inhaled sharply. "I had an idea but I didn't want to assume…Quinn?"_

"_Yes?" Quinn answered, the tears slowing down now._

"_Tell me something, okay? Anything at all. Just… don't hang up."_

"_Do you remember when you said that being a part of something special makes you special?" Quinn asks, remembering a day years ago when Rachel had spent a week repeating that phrase over and over again to the glee kids. _

_Rachel laughed and Quinn didn't understand why, because that statement had fueled her for four years. Rachel chuckled, her breaths light. "Yes."_

"_I just want to be special." Quinn admits. Ignoring the sharp stab in her heart at the realization that she isn't special and she probably won't ever be. "I just want to matter to someone. I just want to feel important and grand and needed. I…want to stop feeling lonely."_

"_Oh Quinn," Rachel said. It must have been the biggest and scariest truth that Quinn has ever shared with her. "Being lonely isn't the same thing as being alone."_

"_Maybe," Quinn agrees. The alcohol was starting to make her head pound. "I'm not sure. I'm not really sure of anything anymore."_

"_That can't be true!" Rachel tries to object and it's clear in her words that she's the sober one in this conversation. Rachel's trying to act rationally but rationality doesn't bode well with intoxication. "You must be sure of something."_

"_I used to be sure of Santana." Quinn answers. "But I'm not sure of her anymore. She'll leave me just like everybody else. She'll realize the same thing that my parents did, that Charlotte did, that everyone who's ever really known me did. She'll realize that I'm not worth it."_

_It's hard to say out loud because it's her biggest fear. She's co-dependent on somebody in the only way she ever could be, in the worst way. It's ruining her, piece by piece because now she has expectations and there's absolutely no way that Santana could meet them. Not now. Not when they're this young._

"_Quinn," Rachel tried gently. "Can I tell you something?"_

"_Sure."_

_Rachel sighed. "T__he surest thing in life is that the sun will rise every morning and the sun will set every night. Regardless of the things you want Quinn, change will happen because life goes on.__Whether it goes on with or without you is entirely up to you."_

_Quinn is about to answer when she hears commotion thru the phone._

"_No, I will not give you the phone!" Quinn hears Rachel exclaim followed by some shuffling._

"_Oh, Jesus, you little smurf. Get your grubby little hands off of me." Quinn hears Santana say. Quinn panics as she hears a scuffle. Not really certain what to do or what's the best decision. So she stays on the line because really, Quinn's always been a masochist at heart._

_She hears Rachel cry out in pain before a heavier breathing takes over the phone. "Hello?" Santana says winded. "Quinn?"_

_Quinn weighs her options twice-over before deciding to screw them all by just saying, "yeah."_

"_I miss you. Can we please talk about this?"_

_Quinn rubbed her eyes in irritation. "No, Santana. We can't."_

"_Don't you miss me?"_

"_Of course I do." Quinn answered honestly. She might as well go the full hundred. "Santana…there's something wrong with our relationship."_

"_Did Berry tell you that?" Santana demanded. "Because let me tell you something, that girl didn't have a friend until she was eighteen. Obviously her viewpoint is pretty jaded."_

"_Santana," Quinn warns, not willing to sidetrack this conversation. It makes sense that when Quinn is feeling most vulnerable is when she decides to be the most honest. Something wasn't right between her and Santana and that's why things were failing. They were friends, sure, but there was also something else. They were treading lines, crossing boundaries, and sneaking past enemy lines. It wasn't normal and it wasn't healthy and if Quinn really wanted a true shot at happiness, she'd have to change that. "Our friendship started off because we needed each other."_

"_Nothing has changed." Santana answered immediately._

_Quinn smiled fondly, sadly, and everything else in between. "That's the problem."_

"_What are you saying?"_

_Quinn shook her head, not really certain. "I don't know...Santana?"_

_"Yeah?" _

_"Do you remember that first day we met?"_

_Santana sighed, as if acting nostalgic made her exhausted. "When you looked whack as hell? Of course, I remember."_

_Quinn rolled her eyes. Of course Santana would try and sidetrack this moment with insults and pointed opinions. It's as if Santana could sense where this conversation was going too. "Why did you come up to me that day?"_

_"Quinn," Santana warned. "You don't want me to answer that."_

_Quinn released a breathe. "No, I do."_

_"I thought..." Santana trailed off, her voice barely a whisper. "I thought that befriending you would be awfully convenient for me."_

_Quinn inhaled sharply. She had had her suspicions for awhile. Ever since this thing with Santana had taken on a life of it's own Quinn had grown more and more curious about that day. It's hard not to. It's hard to see your life changing and winding down a path you had never acknowledged before and not think about the day that started it all. It was hard not to pay attention to the thing that was possibly leading towards her 'Great Perhaps'. _

_Still. Even though Quinn had had her ideas about Santana's reasons for approaching her that day, it didn't make Santana's admittance hurt any less. The truth has the benefit of honesty, but that doesn't make everything sting any less. _

_"That sounds like you." Quinn said, not knowing what else to say. Nothing else made sense._

_Santana's voice quivered. "Do you regret befriending me?"_

_"Sometimes."_

_"Do you wish that you weren't my friend anymore?" Santana questioned, her voice cracking on her last word. She cleared her throat and Quinn could almost picture Santana acting nonchalant._

"_No." Quinn said because it was true. Even if she did occasionally regret befriending Santana (this only happened whenever Quinn was mad at herself for letting herself get pulled so far into everything) that didn't mean that she regretted Santana and what she gave Quinn. She hesitated before feeling relief flood through her veins. Perhaps this was the moment in life that everyone talked about. The moment where you made a decision that you knew would change your life from that moment on. There's no going back from a moment like this. Maybe this is what Rachel was trying to prevent, Quinn thinks. Maybe Rachel was trying to help Quinn work on herself first, because how could she work on anything else when she couldn't even work on herself?_

"_No." Quinn repeats. Her voice is firm and strong, and it's funny that her Fabray 'cool-under-pressure' genes have picked this moment to show up. Perhaps this moment mattered more than Quinn would ever know. Perhaps she was just really drunk. "I wish that I could keep you to myself for forever and a half."_


	10. In The End, Everyone Ends Up ALone

_A/N: Well, I owed you guys this update much sooner and I do apologize! I had every intention of posting this a few days ago but I haven't been home in a bit, so unfortunately it had to wait. All mistakes are mine. I hope you guys enjoy this. Please let me know what you did like and what you didn't. Carry on! (You all are awesome!)_

* * *

**In The End, Everyone Ends Up Alone**

Quinn looked herself up and down in the mirror one more time before turning away with a sigh. She felt like she looked ridiculous and normally she wouldn't subject herself to an uncomfortable situation such as this. At least, she wouldn't subject herself without a little leeway of some sort.

However, this was _vital_ in repairing whatever she had stupidly broken in her relationship with Sadie the night before. Quinn wasn't the type of girl to suck up her pride (even when she was wrong, probably especially so) but the argument from the night before had made Quinn feel ill. Sadie was her roommate and was trying against all odds to be her friend. At the very least Quinn owed her an apology.

Quinn pulled the suspenders that were hanging at her sides over her shoulders and clasped them on, making sure that they held up the slacks she was wearing. She grabbed the bowler hat off the corner of her bed and placed it over her pinned up hair. She grabbed her cane and gave herself one last look over in the full length mirror to make sure that the mustache and eyebrows looked appropriate.

Quinn sighed again (her go-to reaction). She felt entirely uncomfortable dressed in something like this. Her parents would have certainly disapproved of the get-up she was currently wearing. Quinn brushed the thought off. It was Halloween and Quinn needed to do this, not just for Sadie but for herself. She had to let go of whatever it was that was holding her back and tying her down to the old Quinn.

She _could_ do this.

* * *

After Sadie had left their dorm Quinn had mulled over the best way to apologize. She had waited patiently for Sadie's return by coming up with plans and ideas and speeches (she was always prepared) of things she could do or say to make Sadie forgive her. Yes, it was true that Quinn had been a little oblivious towards Sadie. She hadn't made as much of an effort as Sadie had, but in all fairness, that had less to do with Sadie and more to do with Quinn being Quinn. She was locked down and the only time anyone even managed to get past her many defenses was when they burrowed or broke their way into her heart.

Quinn cared for Sadie, she really did, enough to be concerned about Sadie's alcoholic intake and enough to suggest that they stay roommates next year. Quinn's only problem was showing it. So she had decided that whenever Sadie decided to show her face in their dorm again, Quinn would be ready and willing to issue an apology.

Unfortunately for Quinn, Sadie never returned that night. She didn't make an appearance at all during the morning, either. So now Quinn was left to pick up the pieces alone. She didn't know the best way to apologize for something like this because she had so little experience in ever being actually sorry and actually caring enough to say so. But this was Sadie and it was something that needed to be fixed.

For the past few weeks Sadie had been going on and on about this Halloween party that this fraternity was throwing. There was going to be a costume competition and people could enter in teams, so Sadie had been practically adamant that Quinn participate with her. The problem was that Quinn had never really been a Halloween girl. Her family was Christian and her father had labeled the day as one started by the "devil" so Quinn had never had the opportunity to get wrapped up in it. As a consequence, now that Quinn was older; she had never felt the desire to get caught up in it.

However, with each minute that passed without Sadie's return, Quinn realized more and more that she was going to have to suck it up. Sadie was going to be at this party and if Quinn wanted to make amends, she would have to be there as well. Costumes were mandatory and Quinn was never really the type of girl to do anything half-assed. Once she committed herself, she _committed _herself.

Hopefully Sadie would see how Quinn was trying.

* * *

It wasn't hard to figure out which fraternity house the party was being hosted at, considering she could practically hear the thump of the bass from her dorm room. It was a little nerve wracking, to go dressed as something so opposite of what people expected of someone like her. But if Quinn's learned anything these past few weeks it's that she needs to start putting herself out there.

Quinn drew in a deep breath and steeled her shoulders, sending the guy at the door a nod. He looked her over and then grabbed a clipboard from the table that was right next to him. Quinn rolled her eyes, if she had come dressed as some slutty thing from well,_anything_, he certainly would have let her pass without a second glance.

"Name?" The guy shouted over music.

Quinn rolled her eyes and did her best to look intimidating. "Charlie."

The guy scanned the list and then looked back at Quinn. "I don't see a Charlie."

Quinn internally rolled her eyes. What a moron. She raised her eyebrows and tried to wiggle them. "I'm with Sadie."

The man nodded. It wasn't uncommon for people to know who Sadie was on campus. She was oddly popular for a girl who wasn't pledging to any sorority or in any clubs. He moved to the side and to let Quinn through and she sighed, glad she didn't have to resort to her old HBIC tendencies. She was doing her best to leave that girl behind.

For a party that had only started an hour ago, it was certainly hitting that **RAGE** point. Students were plastered everywhere, other students were basically having sex on the dance floor; the sorority girls were flirting with all the fraternity boys in the kitchen. It was a full blown party. There was more than one keg (which, wow) and bottles upon bottles of liquor. Immediately Quinn felt herself tense up again. She needed to find Sadie before the music and the people got to her. Even though she had experienced parties like this before, she still felt like a small town girl in a big city.

She feels an ache hit her heart when her mind flashes over Lima (which of course leads to her mind flashing over Santana). She grabs a cup from a table and takes a sip, doing her best to brush it off.

Tonight wasn't about Santana (even though every night felt like it was about Santana). Tonight was about Sadie, and Quinn putting her relationship with her roommate first. Quinn downed the rest of the cup, welcoming how the alcohol settled her nerves. It was in moments like this that Quinn could see why Sadie was so attached to her margaritas. It was a strange coping mechanism, sure, but Quinn couldn't ever say that alcohol didn't make her feel better. She assumed that's the thing Sadie liked about her margaritas as well.

Quinn glanced over the party, doing her best to stand on her tippy toes in the giant shoes that were on her feet. After a few minutes she spotted Sadie standing in the corner of the house. A grim smile was on Sadie's face as she stood next to one of the kegs and Quinn could tell it was a smile of discomfort. Quinn grabbed another cup from the table and made her way through the dancing crowd. After a few well-placed turns and one ill placed elbow, Quinn had safely made her way next to Sadie.

Quinn smiled and stood next to Sadie, hoping that Sadie would be the one to initiate this conversation. When a few silent minutes passed without even a glance from Sadie, Quinn cleared her throat loudly. Sadie didn't budge so Quinn repeated her action, only this time she was louder. When Sadie didn't acknowledge her _again_ Quinn cleared her throat a last time, her grunt nearly as loud as the music.

Sadie turned to Quinn, a scowl on her face. She leaned in towards Quinn and half-shouted. "I can see you, Quinn. I didn't lose my sight along with your nerve."

"I'm sorry!" Quinn yelled, deciding it was best if she just got to the point.

"What?!"

Quinn leaned in closer, her face heating from the alcohol. "I'm sorry that I snapped at you!"

Sadie pulled away, a small smile on her lips. "You're forgiven!"

"Really?!" Quinn asked, surprised.

Sadie laughed and grabbed Quinn's hand. She led Quinn past a bunch of drunken freshman and up some stairs, before pushing Quinn into an empty closet. Quinn's left eye twitched. How _ironic_.

Sadie turned on the light after shutting the door and spun around so that she was facing Quinn. "Look, Quinn, I like you. I get that you're not the girl who's very good at making friends. So, yeah, you're forgiven. It was bitchy of you to snap at me, sure, but it was pretty bitchy for me to snap at you too. But, hey, we're girls and sometimes we're bitches. It happens sometimes and we both have to learn that that's okay. You're trying and if I'm being honest, I could have been stuck with a lot worse for a roommate."

Quinn tilted her head to the side, relieved that her relationship with Sadie was the one thing these days that was just _easy_. "Did you just insult me or compliment me?"

"Both. I complisulted you. Which actually isn't a word, in case you were wondering. I totally just made that up." Sadie said with a grin, and a satisfied head nod.

"I totally couldn't tell."

Sadie smacked Quinn's arm. "Shut up."

Quinn laughed. She leaned in to give Sadie a hug only to realize that the girl was wearing an enormous costume. Seriously, how had Quinn not noticed that? She had been so focused on apologizing that she had completely zoned everything else out. "What are you wearing?"

Sadie gestured towards the weird, round, red cushion that was surrounding her proudly. "I am an apple."

"An apple?"

Sadie nodded her grin enormously wide. "Yeah, like from those Hane commercials?"

"That's ridiculous." Quinn said. She looked around the closest and realized just how confined they were thanks to Sadie's costume. She took a sip of her drink –which, whoa, she had totally forgotten about that—and did her best to not panic. She was getting warmer by the second and she was only now realizing it. Which, of course, just made Quinn feel warmer.

"Please. It's better than what you're wearing."

Quinn scoffed her right hand (the empty one) accidently brushing across something wet. She shuddered. "Whatever. I'm dressed as an icon."

"Yeah, a _common _icon. At least my costume is original."

Quinn rolled her eyes at Sadie's behavior. "Are we really going to argue about this or can we go back out to the party and enjoy ourselves? It's getting hot in here." Quinn took off the hat as a means to cool herself down.

Sadie grabbed Quinn's hand to still her movements. "Put the hat back on, Quinn."

"Why? Do I look bad?

Sadie shook her head. "No. It's just…without the hat on you kind-of look like Hitler."

"No." Quinn objected. "I have my cane…" Quinn trailed off when she realized that she didn't actually have her cane with her. How had she already misplaced that thing? She looked at Sadie's amused face. "Oh."

"Yeah."

* * *

Quinn awoke the next morning with what could only be described as the worst hangover known on the planet. Her head was pounding in sync with the beat of what sounded like a Ke$ha song. She lifted her head and sighed in relief when she recognized her computer in the corner of the room.

Last night had quickly gotten out of control once Sadie and Quinn had returned to the party. Quinn doesn't remember much, but she does have glimpses of bottles of Vodka, flip cup, and a chugging competition. The way Quinn's stomach curled at the thought of liquor was enough to solidify her story.

Quinn Fabray had gotten out of control.

Perhaps it was needed, perhaps it was not. Either way, Quinn had to quell the panic that crept into her heart at the ideas of what she could have done. Quinn knows that Sadie wouldn't have let her get too out of control, but a giant part of her is scared anyway. She doesn't enjoy it when she's not in control and maybe that's a sign of who Quinn truly is underneath the surface.

Quinn scrambled out of bed, not paying attention to the fact that she was still in the extra-large trousers or that black makeup was smeared all across her pillow. She spared a glance towards Sadie and continued on when she noticed that Sadie wasn't in her bed.

Wherever that girl was, she certainly recovered from alcohol like a champ.

Quinn ignored her phone, not ready to see the damage from the night before. Instead she sat at her desk and opened her laptop, quickly logging onto Facebook. Quinn rubbed her face tiredly. She was most certainly going to need to go back to bed soon. Quinn opened her eyes wider and clicked on her notifications. She only had three, which had to be good right?

WRONG.

**Santana Lopez, Kurt Hummel, and nine other people commented on your photo.**

**Sadie, Samantha Taylor, and twenty-three others liked your photo.**

**Samantha Taylor tagged you in a photo.**

Quinn faltered when she read Santana's name. It had been two weeks since Quinn had put herself out there. Two weeks without so much of a hello from Santana, and now she was commenting on Quinn's photo? Quinn didn't know what to think.

It hadn't been a declaration of love that she had given Santana two weeks ago, but it had been _something_. Santana couldn't pretend anymore and a part of Quinn was glad that that was over. It had been killing her slowly to pretend like this thing between them was something less than what it was.

Santana didn't seem to agree though. She had told Quinn to give her time and that she'd get back to her, as if Quinn had been making a proposal instead of an ultimatum. It had infuriated Quinn, to put herself out there time and time again only for Santana to pull away or hide or act oblivious. Quinn was important too, she mattered, and it wasn't fair for Santana to pretend like Brittany was the only one who was being hurt through all of this.

So in frustration Quinn had hung up, intent on giving Santana all the silence that she needed. It had been funny at the time (mostly because she was drunk) because it had hit her that her relationship with Santana was more often not-working than it was working. It was more common for them to be fighting than it was for them to be friends, and maybe that was funny. Maybe it was a sign.

Maybe Quinn should have known from the very beginning that this is what it would all lead up to. Maybe, maybe, maybe. That's what Quinn's life had been reduced to in the wake of this mess. She had always been a girl who was certain when she was certain, and now she was the girl who was always 'maybe'.

Santana's silence didn't do anything to prevent Quinn's rabid thoughts. If anything, Quinn took Santana's silence as an answer. If someone can't give you what you want…can't acknowledge you for who you are…if someone can't admit something so easy to see, then maybe that someone wasn't the right fit.

Quinn couldn't figure it out because even though she kept telling herself that Santana wasn't worth her time, that she was going to hurt Quinn, that Santana wasn't the right fit to snap into any part of Quinn's life…well, the brutal truth is that even though Quinn told herself all of those things, her heart still ached for Santana.

Unfortunately for her, when you love someone your heart is blind. It wants what it wants regardless of the mess it turns you into. Love is blinding, it's crushing, and Quinn thinks that it's completely not worth it. And yet, love was something Quinn had. What's worse, she had to for Santana.

Its love that makes her hope that Santana will change. Its love that makes Quinn click on the notification with Santana's name, just so that Quinn could have something more to hold on to. Anything at all to hold on to.

The photo is a picture of Quinn, one suspender hanging off her shoulder and a bottle of vodka against her mouth. She's chugging with a smile, and to her left there's a girl—wait, there's Sammy, and she's giving Quinn a kiss on the cheek. Quinn doesn't even remember Sammy being there, but apparently she was.

Quinn scrolled down and read the comments on the photo.

_Brittany: if you drink enough vodka it tastes like love_

_Puck: this has been Puckerman approved ;)._

_Sadie: Get it Quinn, get it!_

_Rachel: I know that underage drinking is something everyone partakes in (I live with Santana, so it's a must know, really) but I think it's perhaps not something you want posted on The Facebook._

_Also, you look very dapper, Quinn._

_Finn: reel cute._

_Mercedes: It's nice to see you letting loose. Call me soon, ya hear?_

_Sam: The force is strong in this one (in you. That's a lot of alcohol!)_

_Tina: Is everyone having fun but us?_

_Blaine: Tina, we're having different fun! I applaud your ability to constantly amaze me Quinn. Also, your outfit is tailored very nice. I like the bowtie._

_Kurt: Is it just me or have you been listening to the color coding speeches I've been sending you? Your color coordination has been brilliantly placed. You also photograph extremely well._

_Santana: You look happy._

Three words.

After two weeks of silence, Santana only gives her three words?

What the hell does that mean? Quinn slammed her laptop shut in anger. Two weeks, she waited two weeks for Santana to tell her that she looks happy? What. The. Fuck.

She's ready to throw her computer against the wall when Sadie comes into the room, her cheeks puffed out in irritation. She throws her cellphone at Quinn and Quinn does her best to catch it.

Sadie points at Quinn, her face serious. "Seriously, get a GPS tracker or start answering your freaking calls. I can't handle all of your ninja friends getting my phone number. Which, by the way, how do they keep doing that? I feel like I posted an ad on Craigslist." With that, Sadie exits the room in a huff.

Quinn looked at the phone confused and raised Sadie's cell to her ear. "Hello?"

"I am appalled that you went to such great lengths to ignore my calls, Quinn."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I didn't go to great lengths, Rach, I just didn't answer. I've been busy." It wasn't technically a lie, she had been busy. Rachel didn't need to know with what.

"Yeah, what gives Goldie Hawn?" Quinn hears Kurt shout from the background.

Quinn squints in confusion. "Goldie Hawn?"

"Ignore Kurt." Rachel says dismissively as Kurt shouts "Hey!" Rachel continues unbothered. "He just watched the Breakfast Club and is in the process of trying to give everyone nicknames. He thinks it'll make us closer."

"How did he just now watch The Breakfast Club? He's _gay_."

Rachel tuts in disapproval. "While I can agree with your reasoning, I can't support it. Being gay is not enough of a reason to have seen a movie." Rachel lowered her voice, her tone playful. "Plus, it's Kurt. We all know he's a late bloomer."

"I can hear you!" Quinn hears Kurt yell.

Quinn laughs, a familiar ease settling into her stomach. She doesn't know if she missed it or not, but then again, she doesn't really know anything anymore. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Rachel?"

"Blame it on the fact that I am concerned for you." Rachel says wearily, the tone of the conversation taking a complete one-eighty.

Quinn deflated; this was one of the things she had been trying to avoid. Rachel Berry's pity was something she had never welcomed. Not when she was in a wheelchair and not now. "Don't be."

"Thanksgiving is in three and a half weeks." Rachel says, as if it relates to their conversation.

"I do own a calendar, Rach." Quinn mutters back.

Rachel's breathing shifts and Quinn can tell that she hit a sensitive spot. "Quinn, I'm trying here, so why don't you put away the bitch act and have an actual conversation with me?"

"Fine," Quinn agrees, her voice coming out flat.

Rachel sighs in defeat even though she technically won. "We made a promise."

"You just want to see Finn." Quinn shoots back, because she knows what Rachel is referring to and she'll be damned if she goes back to Lima now. She'll be damned if she lets herself go back to a place she hated without the person who got her out.

"Fine," Rachel relents. "I am curious to see what he's been up to. Is he thriving? Does he miss me? Is Lima different now?"

Quinn ignores the majority of Rachel's questions. To her, Finn was unimportant. He had been an end to a means, a stepping stone for Quinn. Unfortunately, he had been Rachel's first love. Somewhere in-between the times that he was with Quinn, he had fallen for Rachel and Rachel for him. It wasn't weird, not really, because Quinn had never wanted Finn like _that_ and when it was clear that Quinn didn't need him anymore, she had given Rachel her blessing.

After her accident and spending the majority of senior year as less than what she was before, Quinn had put her efforts into being a better friend towards Rachel. She supported Rachel and she supported Rachel while she was with Finn, and when Rachel had gotten into NYADA with Kurt, well, Quinn had all but demanded that she go.

Unfortunately Finn's dreams weren't the same. He wanted to stay in Lima and grow up to teach the Glee Club like Mr. Schue. Those were his dreams and they weren't necessarily bad, but they weren't Rachel's dreams. Sometimes in life people will want things and they won't match up with the person (or people) that they love. The biggest decision then becomes, do you make a decision based off of someone else or do you do what you want to?

Finn had wanted Rachel to stay, to sacrifice for him, and Quinn had convinced Rachel to leave, ending their relationship the moment she stepped on the plane.

Santana had wanted Quinn to go with her to New York, to stay together like they always were, and Rachel had convinced Quinn to go to Yale, hurting Santana in the process.

Rachel had known that Santana had wanted Quinn to come with her and she had convinced Quinn to do something for herself. She gave Quinn the push that she needed and yeah, Santana wasn't happy (she still resented Quinn a bit for that) and yeah, Quinn desperately missed those guys…but she had to do this for her, she had to try and be her own person.

And so did Rachel.

However, Quinn could understand wanting to hold onto something. In fact, she had never told anyone else this but she had also gotten into UCLA. It had been a small dream of hers to go (the beaches, the sun, the dreams) and when Quinn had received the acceptance letter, she had almost fainted. UCLA had been her dream and she had settled (funny, because one would rarely assume that Yale was settling) for Yale because there was no Santana in California.

If there was no Santana, then there would have to be no Quinn.

Quinn feels tears spring to the corner of her eyes. There was never a Quinn without a Santana, not in any of the scenarios she had pictured.

Quinn sighed, her hands twitching anxiously. She had never told Rachel because that would make Quinn a hypocrite (which, of course, she is). Quinn was co-dependency at its finest. So, yes, she understands Rachel's desire to go home and see her childhood sweetheart. She understands it but she doesn't want to support it.

Rachel and Finn were different than her and Santana. Santana didn't ask her to stay behind; she had only wanted to move forward together. Finn had wanted Rachel to stay behind because he was afraid of moving forward together.

She settles for support anyway because she doesn't want Rachel to get defensive. She settles for support because she doesn't want to give anything else. "It's Lima, Rachel. He's all small town, small dreams, and a small life." Quinn winced, that wasn't really supportive. Quinn lowered her voice to soften the blow of her next words, "He's never going to want to leave."

"I know." Rachel whispers dejectedly. Quinn wonders briefly how they got here, but it makes sense. Everything about her relationship with Rachel had always been scattered, so of course their conversations would be too. "It's just hard to let go when you love someone." Rachel adds as an afterthought.

"Don't get all suicidal on me now, Berry." Quinn jokes, even though it's not funny.

Thankfully, Rachel laughs. Her laugh isn't light, it's heavy, and it makes Quinn sad. "Anyway," Rachel starts, changing the conversation for what felt like the fifth time. "I'd really like you to come back home with us."

"I can't."

"You made a promise, Quinn." Rachel pushes.

"It's embarrassing." Quinn answers, because it is. It's the answer to more than one question and Rachel seems to pick up on it.

"No, it's not. Everyone drinks a little too much and cries sometimes, Quinn. Everyone makes mistakes. You can't beat yourself up over it or hide just because you feel like you did something wrong. Believe me, you're going to do many things wrong in life."

"Thanks," Quinn says sarcastically.

"What I meant is…" Rachel corrects. "Mistakes are common in life. They build character. We don't stop doing things wrong just because we get older. So grow a pair and act like the Quinn Fabray I know."

"Santana will be there." Quinn bites out, hoping to slow Rachel's rampage down. "Brittany will be there."

Rachel huffs. "I'm not an idiot, of course I know that."

"_Rachel,_" Quinn warns. "I'm not in the mood, okay? I can't sit there and watch Santana and Brittany go at it. I love them both, I really do, but it's too much right now."

"Quinn." Rachel starts hesitantly. "Do you really not know?"

"Know what?"

"Know that Santana and Brittany broke up." Kurt answers, and Quinn jumps while Rachel screams into the receiver, practically breaking Quinn's eardrum in the process.

"Kurt! Get off the other line you nosey Queen!"

"It's not my fault nobody tells me anything!" Kurt yells back before Quinn hears a _click_.

Quinn doesn't say anything, not at all. Her heart stops (or so it feels like it). Her fingertips go numb. Her mind…it won't stop racing. Her first thought is Santana because that's always her first thought. "Santana?"

"She won't leave her room." Rachel answers sadly.

Quinn ignores how a piece of her heart literally felt like it was breaking. Was that even possible? "She didn't tell me."

"To be fair, they haven't really told anyone." Rachel defends.

"It's _me_." Quinn spits out. "I'm not just anyone."

"Quinn. Perhaps this is something you should discuss with Santana."

"When?" Quinn asks, her defenses rising along with her voice. Everything was something that she needed to discuss with Santana.

"Four days ago."

"Santana…" Quinn trails off, not wanting to continue. "Is Brittany okay?"

Rachel hesitates and it's clear to Quinn that she's debating whether or not she should say. "They're both devastated."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" Rachel counters and Quinn can almost picture Rachel's eyebrows furrowed together in concentration.

Quinn's shoulders drop. She's picking a fight with the wrong person. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I—I…what should I do?"

"You should come home with us for Thanksgiving. You should spend time with your friends and your family. You should forget about all of this, even if it's only for a moment." Rachel answers honestly. "We promised the glee kids, Quinn."

Quinn nods frantically before realizing that Rachel can't see her. "Okay."

"Okay."

Quinn nods again. "Okay. I should go."

"Wait." Rachel says, giving Quinn pause. "Quinn…Brittany's the one who broke up with Santana."

"What?"

"I don't know a lot of it, but I know about…the things that have been happening between you and Santana. At least I have an idea and I just, I don't want you to get your hopes up." Rachel finishes lamely.

"Brittany broke up with Santana?"

"Yes. She got offered a deal to be Beyoncé's back-up dancer on tour for the next six months. She didn't want Santana to feel obligated to go with her and Brittany didn't want to feel obligated to stay. I'm sure there's more to it than that, but that's all Brittany told us."

"That's great for Brittany." Quinn says, because it is. Things were always great for Brittany.

Rachel hums in agreement.

"Rachel? I have to go." Quinn lies. "I have a bunch of homework I have to do."

"Okay. Well, this has been highly unpleasant." Rachel jokes. "Until next time!"

Quinn pulls Sadie's phone away from her ear as soon as she's certain Rachel has disconnected. She places the phone on the table before turning around and crawling back into bed. Why wouldn't Santana tell her? She was worth more than a phone call. She was Santana's best friend. That was worth a lot these days. She deserved an answer, right?

Quinn closed her eyes tightly. Maybe Santana hadn't told her because Quinn wasn't worth telling. Maybe Quinn wasn't good enough, just like she had always suspected. Maybe the lines that they had always carelessly drawn between them…maybe they were real now, maybe Santana was making her choice.

_Still_.

Quinn deserved to know, she deserved to be considered. Quinn wasn't a convenience. She was a person with actual feelings. Maybe she wasn't good at love and maybe she wasn't good enough to be loved, but Quinn had always been good to Santana. She had always tried. So why couldn't Santana let Quinn in? Why couldn't Santana tell her?

A call, a text, an email, _anything. _Anything instead of _you look happy._ Because if Santana really cared, if Santana really looked closely, she'd see how it was all just a ruse. Quinn wasn't happy. She hadn't been happy since the day she opened Santana's door to find Brittany lying next to her. She hadn't been happy since the day she realized their twosome would be a threesome. Yeah, she made room and she did her best to be welcoming, but it didn't change the fact that Quinn wasn't happy with it.

Every day Quinn tried to be better and every day she was somehow torn down. Life was chipping away at her, taking a little bit of her every day. It's sad because she wanted to prove that by coming to Yale she didn't need Santana. Quinn wanted to prove that Santana could have Brittany and Quinn could have Yale (while still being close enough to have each other).

In the end, the only thing she's proven is that she needs Santana, and it's pathetic. Love has made her pathetic. Quinn is pathetic.

She's never felt more alone then she has in this moment and it's funny, because weeks ago she thought there was no lower point she could hit. It's funny how life keeps proving her wrong. It seemed intent on always proving Quinn wrong.

She doesn't know how she feels or what this means. All she wants to do is sleep.

So she lays her head down on her pillow, cuddles against her comforter, and does just that.

A part of her hopes that when she wakes up Santana will be there beside her instead of Quinn just being alone.

A larger part of her hopes that she won't wake up at all.


	11. She Loves Loving Things

_A/N: I have so much going on that I can barely get to everything! This is super-duper short because, well, I wanted it to be. Please let me know what you think. Next chapter Quinn and Santana will finally be reunited. Please read and review and do all things necessary or that you feel like doing. You are all incredibly wonderful and I love you. Onward! (Also a line from this story was used in a previous story that I wrote/love and Sadie's back story is something that actually happened to my best friend's sister, so wear your seat belts people!)_

* * *

**She Loves Loving Things**

**(Any Way You Want It, That's The Way You Need It)**

When Quinn wakes up hours later she feels like a completely different person, and not in a good way.

Sadie is in the room drinking, _again_, and Quinn can't even be bothered to care. She honestly just wants to go back to sleep because at least in her dreams everything feels okay. In her dreams she doesn't feel like this girl, she doesn't feel crazy or insane or alone. In her dreams she's just that, _dreaming_, and Quinn thinks for a brief instance she could stay like that forever.

It's terrifying in a way, but Quinn understands how an alcoholic can become just that or how a drug addict can become so co-dependent on something so small. Quinn gets it now because it's easier to forget than it is to remember, and God, how she wishes she couldn't remember sometimes.

She doesn't want to remember how easily Santana and her fit together. She doesn't want to think about Santana's lips and how they felt on hers. Quinn doesn't want to remember how after walking in on Brittany and Santana after they clearly had sex, she had only felt betrayed instead of apologetic.

A part of her feels like she should have known. _'You can see a cloud before it's coming,'_ her mother used to say. Except Quinn didn't see anything at all, she didn't catch the slightest hint.

A part of her feels like she shouldn't have known. Santana was a whirlwind of things. She marched into Quinn's life the same way she marched into Quinn's heart and Quinn thinks that you can't predict something like that. That kind of love is rare and all consuming. It happens because there's no other way for that kind of affection to go.

Quinn felt a pain in her head and a pain in her heart and for the first time she couldn't figure out which one to comfort and put at ease.

It's useless because at the end of the day Quinn still remembers everything. It's useless because at the end of the day she'll still be in _love_ with Santana fucking Lopez and there will still be nothing she could do about it.

Its love, she knows that now. In fact, she's probably always known that, she's just been too hard headed to admit it. There's no other emotion in the world that could leave someone so bare or make them feel so freaking crazy, as if they were nothing before love came along and as if they'd be nothing again when it leaves.

She's in _love_ and it's devastating because Quinn Fabray has absolutely no idea how to love something. She doesn't love very well in the same way that she can't share and it's something she just can't wrap her head around.

Quinn had always assumed that she was incapable of such a thing, being in love. When you come from a family like hers—a family where showing one another affection is frowned upon—you're lucky if you can even establish normal relationships, let alone love someone else healthily.

Healthy, Quinn is not. Her mind shows that to her. Her body lets her know that from its reaction to the news about Santana alone. There's no way that loving Santana like this could be healthy. Maybe that's why she avoided admitting it for so long. Maybe that's why she hid behind her straight façade, maybe that's why she pretended it was a mild form of curiosity mixed with friendship.

She's going crazy, she has to be. Nothing else could explain the way that she was feeling. Quinn was up a paddle without a creek on this one. She didn't know how to love, not well. She didn't understand how to do so without conniving, plotting, pushing, or ruining someone. She didn't even know what love truly was.

However, Quinn did know that she was in it. She was whole heartedly, one hundred percent in love with Santana Lopez and she hated herself for it.

Love was a cruel thing. It was ruining Quinn. It was making her crazy and jealous and just insane. She spent the majority of her days ignoring Santana and the rest of it hoping that Santana would call. Quinn was so many different emotions all at once and she didn't know what to do anymore.

She wanted Santana and she also wanted to ruin her.

She wanted to taint Santana in the same way that she had tainted Quinn. Quinn wanted to give Santana false promises of tomorrow, Quinn wanted to tell Santana that she'd never leave even though it was clear that promises like that couldn't be kept. She wanted to punish Santana for choosing Brittany and then she wanted to keep Santana to herself for forever.

Quinn wanted to love Santana, make love to her, possess her, own her, strangle her, kiss her, help her, taint her, taste her, push her, better her, and save her.

It was _crazy._

It was _nuts_.

It was _love_ at the same time that it wasn't.

Quinn didn't believe that this was the right type of love. At least, not right now. Quinn wants it to be, she wants to march to New York with a freaking rainbow flag and profess anything and everything. But life and opportunities don't work that way. Yes, there are some things that you take. But there are also things that you have to wait for.

Quinn's problem is that she's never been very patient.

She wants to tell Santana about how Yale truly makes her feel independent at the same time that it makes her feel lonely and Quinn wants Santana to actually _listen_ to the things Quinn's saying instead of hearing what Santana wants to hear.

"Okay, Virginia Woolf," Sadie calls from across the room, her mouth wrapped around a straw inside of her margarita. "What's up with the sighing and generally depressed attitude that you're sending my way?"

Quinn looked up at the ceiling, not quite sure if she was ready to say all of the things that were on her mind. She settled on the one that was easiest to address. "I'm so fucked up."

"It's okay," Sadie says and for the first time Quinn really believes her. Sadie shoots Quinn a small smile. "We all act a little fucked up sometimes."

"Okay," Quinn agreed even though she felt like the opposite.

Sadie stood up and made her way over. She sat on Quinn's bed and handed her a bottle filled with actual water instead of margaritas. Quinn raised her eyebrows at the sight and Sadie just shrugged. "Can I ask you a question, Quinn?"

Quinn grabbed the bottle of water and nodded.

"Is this about Santana?"

"Lucky guess?"

Sadie laughed, strands of her hair falling out of her ponytail. "More like a lucky life, I suppose." Sadie put her hand on Quinn's knee. "Talk to me, babe."

Quinn sighed. She didn't even know where to begin. So she started at the beginning, from the moment she first fell in love with Santana until a few moments ago when she realized that it was truly love that she was in. It's funny because Sadie has heard this story before but it's completely different now. It's funny how a story can be told over and over again and how it changes just because of how the person felt when they were telling it. At first it had sounded like a story of friendship but now it seemed like an epic tale of love.

"So you're worried about going back home and running into her?" Sadie concluded. She had her chin in her hand and her arm positioned on her leg. "Isn't that good though because she's single and now you two can mingle?"

"She's never picked me outside of when she's needed to." Quinn answers honestly. She didn't expect herself to, at least not to Sadie, but sometimes things slip out. It's a fear she's had that she's always kept buried and it makes sense that it'd slip out now.

"Okay," Sadie began; her eyes alight as if Quinn was telling her some juicy story. "Why didn't you just go for it after the accident? She sounded way into you then. I mean, I don't think she's ever not sounded into you but whatever; I'm just a third party. In this Titanic equation, I must be the iceberg."

"I found God," Quinn answers, recalling the promises she made while lying in that hospital bed. It's a dumb answer but it's the only one she has.

"Wait, I'm confused." Sadie sat up straight, her margarita already gone. "Didn't you always have him?"

"Sometimes," Quinn said with a shrug. "Only sometimes."

Sadie's eyes went wide at Quinn's answer and she shuffled over towards her drawer. She pulled out a packet of something and wandered back over towards Quinn. She handed Quinn a packet as she sat down on the bed. "Okay, Judy Moody, take two of these. I'm certain they'll make you feel all kinds of great."

Quinn raised the packet to her eyes and eyed the pills suspiciously. "What is it?"

"It's oxy. Look, before you say anything I can almost guarantee this will fix your problem." Sadie said with a smile. What she forgot to add was that afterwards Quinn would feel like all types of shit and would hopefully get her act together. Some things were better left unsaid. "I had a horrible car accident years ago," Sadie added, honestly. "My friend was driving and my stupid ass decided not to wear a seat belt. We were cruising through Seattle—which is where my mother lives in case you were curious—when this driver hit us. Turns out this man had had a seizure behind the wheel and his car ended up hitting us from behind."

Quinn stared at Sadie as she continued to tell her story. Quinn wasn't sure where it was coming from but maybe it had to do with the things she had admitted to earlier. Honesty seems to beget more honesty.

"Anyway," Sadie said with a frown, her eyebrows crinkling at the memory. "Because I was the dumbass who decided to be cool and _not_ wear a seatbelt, I had the unlucky benefit of going right through the windshield." Sadie lifted up her shirt and showed Quinn a scar that stretched across her stomach. "Eleven months and a full body cast is how long it took for me to stand up again. And that was just moving my body. They told me I died that day and I often believe that a part of that is true. After all of that I wasn't the same. I tried pills, I tried drugs, I tried sex and nothing really filled that void, you know? The void of feeling alone," Sadie mumbled. She cleared her throat and looked Quinn in the eyes. "And then one day I realized that I was holding myself back because I was living in the past. Sometimes bad shit happens to good people and that's just the way life goes. You can't help it just as much as you can't stop it; you just have to learn how to try again, Quinn."

Sadie pulled down her shirt with a laugh. She ran her hands through her ponytail. "I like to think of life as one epic love story, ya know? We're all just trudging along until we find something that changes everything, and it's in that moment that we realize life was worth it. It was all worth it." Sadie licked her lips nervously. "I could be upset about a lot of things but instead I choose to drink delicious margaritas and enjoy how I now have a kickass story that'll make people feel so sorry for me that they'll give me things. Not to mention the fact that I carried a 3.2 GPA at my high school and basically got into Yale based off of my admissions essay alone."

"Wow." Quinn said, amazed at Sadie's story and amazed that Sadie had actually opened up to her like that. A part of her assumed it was just the margaritas talking. Either way she could respect where Sadie was coming from. "I'm grateful that you felt you could share that with me."

"I'm grateful you didn't start crying," Sadie shoots back. "You seem like a crying type of girl."

"You got me there," Quinn joked lamely.

Sadie rolled her eyes at Quinn's response and grabbed Quinn's right hand. "Listen here, Quinn, there was more to that story besides my obvious attempt to make you feel sorry for me."

"There was?"

"Yes," Sadie assures. "Would you have ever known that any of that remarkable shit happened to me if I hadn't of just told you?"

Quinn frowned. Did Sadie think Quinn was an idiot or something? "No, of course not. I'm not psychic."

"Exactly!"

"Sadie," Quinn tries gently. "You've lost me."

Sadie huffed in response. "God, Quinn. What I'm saying is that you need to sit down and have an actual talk with Santana."

"I've already tried talking with her," Quinn disagreed. "She knows where I stand and she still picked Brittany."

"Have you ever told her in actual words that you're in love with her and that you want to go make lady babies and shit?"

"No," Quinn answered, confused as to where Sadie was going.

Sadie threw her hands up in the air as if her point was obvious, her Daft Punk shirt rising with her arms and revealing a sliver of her scar again. God, how had Quinn never noticed that? Perhaps it's true that people see only what they want to. "Have you told her that her skin is such a beautiful blend of bronze and tan?"

"What?"

"Nothing," Sadie averted her gaze. "Look, I'm just saying, okay? How do you expect her to know what you want, Quinn, if you've never even bothered to tell her in actual words?"

Quinn frowned at Sadie's words. They'd reached a key point that actually made sense. All along she had been blaming Santana but she could see how some of the blame lied with Quinn as well. She had never once told Santana that she was what Quinn wanted, even all those years ago when she had worked up the courage to kiss her. That still wasn't words, it wasn't solid. Santana couldn't build dreams on that.

"Maybe when you go back to Lima that should be where you start. Try and have an actual conversation that doesn't end in nudity or somebody leaving upset, yeah?"

Quinn laughed affectionately. She was suddenly extremely grateful to have Sadie in her life. It was clear that her roommate was quickly becoming a rock in Quinn's life. Quinn opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by a knock at the door. She looked at Sadie confused and Sadie half-shrugged in response, which Quinn knew Sadie had picked up from her. Sadie stood up and made her way over towards the door. She opened it and exhaled in irritation when she recognized who was standing outside of their room.

"Hi!" Quinn heard Sammy's voice filter through. "I was just stopping by to make sure that Quinn is okay."

Sadie steeled her shoulders as if she was on defense and practically growled out, "did you tattoo her dorm room number on your ass or something? Quit being a stalker, you weirdo. Quinn isn't in the mood for visitors right now."

"Excuse me?" Sammy asked, her voice clearly expressing that she was offended. "Let me speak to Quinn."

Sadie rolled her eyes and looked over at Quinn, her right hand gesturing at Sammy. "It's this bitch again."

"I'm standing right here!"

Sadie plastered a fake smile on her face. "Sorry, I have a terrible case of word vomit. Which means that I say what I mean, and what I mean to say right now is that you need to get the fuck out. Quinn will back me up."

"I think Quinn speaks for herself, Sadie."

Sadie exhaled irritably. "Every time anyone says your name we have a moment of silence."

"Did I die or something?"

"You did to me," Sadie replied in a sweet voice. "Bye-bye!" Sadie gave a little wave before promptly slamming the door in Sammy's face.

"See? Honesty," Sadie directed towards Quinn. "Try it sometime. It works wonders."


End file.
